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HAW-HO-NOO; 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST 



CHARLES LANMAN, 

AUTHOR OF "LETTERS FROM THE ALLEGHANY MOUNTAINS," ETC. 



And without registering these things by the pen, 
they will slide away unprofitably. 

Owen Feltham. 




PHILADELPHIA: 
LIPPINCOTT, ORAMBO AND CO., 

SUCCESSORS TO 

GRIGG, ELLIOT AND CO., 

14 NORTH FOURTH STREET. 

1850. 



Entered according to the Act of Congress, in tiae year 1850, by 

LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO AND CO., 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 



PHILADELPHIA : 
T. K. AND P, G. COLLINS, PRINTERS. 



TO 
WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT, ESQ., 

IN WHOM ARE BLENDED 
LL THE HI ORE EXALTED ATTRIBUTES OF 
THE POET AND THE MAN, 

®:i)is llolume 

IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED, 
BY 

THE AUTHOR. 



TO THE PUBLIC 



The title and table of contents of this volume contain all that I have 
to say in regard to its character. My only apology for again appear- 
ing before the public is to be found in the treatment which I have 
heretofore experienced from the critics. With one exception, the 
more prominent periodicals of England and the United States have 
spoken of my former productions in the most kindly manner, and I 
sincerely thank them for their friendship. With regard to the ex- 
ception alluded to — the ^^ North American Review^' — I have only to 
say that its assault upon me was cruel, prompted by an unworthy 
motive, and wholly undeserved. I write from impulse and for the 
pleasure which the employment affords. That my books are popular 
is indeed a matter of rejoicing ; but I make no pretensions whatsoever 
in the literary line, and only desire the approbation of those who are 
willing to believe me a lover of truth, of nature, and my friends. 

The word Haw-ho-noo was originally applied to America by the 
Iroquois Indians, and signifies the country upheld on the hack of a turtle ; 
and my reasons for employing it on the present occasion are simply 
these — a portion of the volume is devoted to the traditionary lore of 
the Aborigines, and the whole has reference to my native land. 

C. L 

Washington, Summer of 1850. 



CONTENTS. 



The Sugar Camp 13 

The Old Academy 21 

AccoMAC 27 

Salmon Fishing 34 

The Fur Trappers 46 

The Canadian Recluse 52 

Trout Fishing 57 

Rock Creek , 6G 

Lilly Larnard 75 

Basse Fishing 83 

A Virginia Barbecue 94 

Death in the Wilderness , 98 

Rock Fishing 101 

Rattlesnakes 113 

The Western Pioneer 119 

Pike Fishing 123 

Plantation Customs 139 

Fishing in General 146 

Our Master in Landscape Painting 152 

PoYERTY in the Empire City 165 

The Fatal Valentine 182 

Indian Legends 187 



IIECORDS OP A TOURIST 



THE SUGAR CAMP. 

Among our more agreeable recollections of the -wilderness are those 
associated with the making of maple s^igar. Our first taste of this 
sweetest of woodland luxuries was received from the hands of an In- 
dian, into whose wigwam we had wandered from our father's dwelling 
on one of the Saturday afternoons of our boyhood. It was many years 
ago, and long before the frontier of Michigan was transformed into a 
flourishing member of the national confederacy. Since that time we 
have not only eaten our full proportion of the luxury in question, both 
in wigwam and cabin, but we have seen it extensively manufactured 
by the Indian, as well as the white man ; and we now purpose to dis- 
course upon the article itself, and upon a few incidents connected with 
its manufacture. 

Maple sugar is made from the sap of a tree, known by the several 
names of rock maple, hard maple, and sugar maple, which is found in 
great abundance in various portions of the Union, but chiefly in the 
northern States. It is a lofty and elegantly proportioned tree, and 
its foliage is particularly luxuriant; and, when touched by the frosts 
of autumn, is pre-eminently brilliant. The wood is also highly esteemed 
for the beauty of its fibre, which consists of concentrical circles, resem- 
bling the eye of a bird ; and hence the term hirds-ejQ maple. 

Generally speaking, the sugar-making season commences early in 
April, is universally considered as one of festivity, and seldom con- 
2 



14 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

tirrnes more than about four weeks. The sudden transition of the 
temperature from winter to spring is essential to its production, for at 
this season alone does the vital principle of the tree pass in large 
quantities from the roots into its branches. Hence it is that, while 
making this passage, the sap has to be withdrawn ; and this is accom- 
plished by making an incision in the tree some three feet from the 
ground, and receiving the liquid in a vessel prepared for the purpose. 
And it has been observed that, when a frosty night is followed by a 
dry and sunny day, the sap flows abundantly, at which times three or 
four gallons are obtained from a single tree in twenty-four hours. The 
process employed for converting the sap into sugar is perfectly simple^ 
and consists in boiling it first into a sirup and then into a more tangi- 
ble substance. Of this sugar there are two kinds, viz., the hard or 
cake sugar, and that of a friable character, which is produced by con- 
stantly stirring the thick sirup when it is becoming cool. The taste 
of the sap or juice, when taken from the tree, is just sweet enough to 
be noticed ; and though we have never ascertained the quantity com- 
monly obtained from a single tree, we have been told that a very fruit- 
ful tree, in a good season, may be made to yield five pounds of the 
best sugar. To the human palate this juice is not generally agreeable, 
but wild and domestic animals are said to be inordinately fond of it, 
and slake their thirst with it whenever they can. Although a sufficient 
quantity of maple sugar has never been manufactured in this country 
to rank it among our articles of exportation, it has, for many years 
past, been about the only sugar used by a large number of people — 
especially those who live in the more thickly-wooded districts of the 
States, and those inhabiting the northern and western frontiers of the 
United States and Canada. In the opinion of all who manufacture 
the article it is held in high estimation, both as a luxury and on ac- 
count of its nutrition. In regard to this last quality, we believe it is 
superior to all other sugars; for we know, from personal observations, 
that when eaten by the Indian children, during the manufacturing sea- 
son, they become particularly hearty, though exclusively confined to it 
as an article of food for weeks at a time. 

From the very nature of the business, the making of maple sugar is 
commonly carried on in an encampment, and we now purpose to de- 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 15 

scribe the various kinds with which we are acquaiuted, beginning, as 
a matter of course, with an Indian camp. We are speaking of the re- 
mote past, and of an encampment of Ottawa Indians, in one of the 
maple forests skirting the western shore of Green Bay. It is in the 
month of April, and the hunting season is at an end. Albeit, the 
ground is covered with snow, the noonday sun has become quite power- 
ful, and the annual offering has been made to the Great Spirit, by the 
medicine men, of the first product of one of the earliest trees in the 
district. This being the preparatory signal for extensive business, the 
women of the encampment proceed to make a large number of wooden 
troughs (to receive the liquid treasure), and, after these are finished, 
the various trees in the neighborhood are tapped, and the juice begins 
to run. In the mean time, the men of the party have built the neces- 
sary fires, and suspended over them their earthen, brass, or iron kettles. 
The sap is now flowing in copious streams, and from one end of the 
camp to the other is at once presented an animated and romantic scene, 
which continues, without interruption, day and night until the end of 
the sugar season. The principal employment to which the men devote 
themselves is that of lounging about the encampment, shooting at 
marks, and playing the moccasin game ; while the main part of the 
labor is performed by the women, who not only attend to the kettles, 
but employ all theii- leisure time in making the beautiful birchen mo- 
cucks, for the preservation and transportation of the sugar when made ; 
the sap being brought from the troughs to the kettles by the boys and 
girls. Less attention than usual is paid by the Indians at such times 
to their meals, and, unless game is very easily obtained, they are quite 
content to depend upon the sugar alone. If an Indian happens to re- 
turn from the river with a fish, he throws it without any ceremony 
into the boiling sap, dipping it out, when cooked, with a ladle or stick; 
and therefore it is that we often find in the maple sugar of Indian 
manufacture the bones of a trout, or some more unworthy fish. That 
even a bird, a rabbit, or an opossum, is sometimes thrown into the 
kettle instead of a fish is beyond a doubt ; and we are not positively 
certain that the civilized fashion of eating jelly with roast lamb may 
not be traced to the barbarous custom of cooking animals in hot sap. 
That this sap itself, when known to be clear and reduced to the con- 



16 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

sistency of molasses, is a palatable article, we are ready to maintain 
against the world ; and we confess that, when not quite so fastidious as 
now, we have often eaten it in truly dangerous quantities, even in the 
cabin of an Indian. As we have already intimated, the sugar season 
is dependent upon the weather; but, even when it is prolonged to 
four or five weeks, it continues from beginning to end to be one of 
hilarity and gladness. At such times, even the wolfish-looking dogs 
seem to consider themselves as entitled to the privilege of sticking 
their noses into the vessels of sap not yet placed over the fire. And 
in this manner does the poor Indian welcome returning spring. 

It is now about the middle of June, and some fifty birchen canoes 
have just been launched upon the waters of Green Bay. They are 
occupied by our Ottawa sugar-makers, who have started upon a pil- 
grimage to Mackinaw. The distance is near two hundred miles, and 
as the canoes are heavily laden, not only with mocucks of sugar, but 
with furs collected by the hunters during the past winter, and the 
Indians are traveling at their leisure, the party will probably reach 
their desired haven in the course of ten days. Well content with 
their accumulated treasures, both the women and the men are in a 
particularly happy mood, and many a wild song is heard to echo over 
the placid lake. As the evening approaches, day after day they seek 
out some convenient landing-place, and, pitching the wigwams on the 
beach, spend a goodly portion of the night carousing and telling stories 
around their camp fires, resuming their voyage after a morning sleep, long 
after the sun has risen above the blue waters of the east. Another sun- 
set hour, and the cavalcade of canoes is quietly gliding into the crescent 
bay of Mackinaw, and, reaching a beautiful beach at the foot of a lofty 
bluff, the Indians again draw up their canoes, again erect their wigwams. 
And, as the Indian traders have assembled on the spot, the more im- 
provident of the party immediately proceed to exhibit their sugar and 
furs, which are usually disposed offer flour and pork, blankets and knives, 
guns, ammunition, and a great variety of trinkets, long before the hour 
of midnight. That the remainder of this night is devoted to feasting 
and dancing, and tumultuous recreation, is a matter of course. But 
the trader who would obtain from the Indians their more unique arti- 
cles of merchandize^ usually visits the encampment on the following 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 17 

morning, wlien lie is always certain of obtaining from the young wo- 
men, on the most reasonable terms, their fancy mocucks of sugar, all 
worked over with porcupine quills; and a great variety of beautifully 
worked moccasins, and fancy bags, made of the sweet-smelling deer 
skin. In about a week after their arrival at Mackinaw, the Ottawa 
Indians begin to sigh for the freedom of the wilderness ; and, before 
the trader has left his bed on some pleasant morning, there is nothing 
to be seen on the beach at Mackinaw but the smoking embers of a 
score or two of watch-fires. 

We would now conduct our readers into the sugar camp of a French- 
man. It is situated in one of the maple forests of Michigan, on the 
banks of the river Raisin, and within half a mile of the rude comfort- 
able dwelling of the proprietor. Very much the same process is here 
pursued in making the sugar that we have already described, only that 
a large proportion of the labor is performed by the men and boys, the 
women participating in the employment more for the purpose of care- 
fully packing away the sugar when made, and having a little romantic 
sport in the way of eating hot sugar in the aisles of the church-like 
forest. The season of winter with our Frenchman has been devoted 
almost exclusively to the pleasures of life, and the making of sugar is 
the first and probably the only really lucrative business which he ever 
transacts. By the term lucrative we mean a business which allows him 
to lay aside a little spare money, for, generally speaking (like the class 
to which he belongs in the north-west), he is perfectly satisfied if the 
agricultural products of his small farm yield him a comfortable 
living. Maple sugar and maple molasses are considered by our friend 
and his family as among their greatest luxuries ; and, while he makes 
a point of taking a goodly quantity to market, he never fails to keep 
a plentiful supply of both under his own roof. In transporting his 
sugar (as well as all other marketable articles) to the neighboring 
town, he employs a rude two-wheeled vehicle, made exclusively of 
wood, and drawn by a Canadian pony. On his first visit to the town 
after the sugar season is ended, he will be accompanied by his entire 
family, decked in their more tidy garments; and, before his return 
home, you may be certain that the Catholic priest, whose church he 
regularly attends, will receive a handsome present of the newly-made 

2* 



18 EECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

sugar, with perhaps a small keg of the delicious maple sirup or molasses. 
And thus does the Frenchman of the frontier welcome the return of 
spring. 

But we have spent some pleasant days in the sugar camps of the 
Dutch yeomanry on the eastern and southern side of the Catskill 
Mountains; and we must not omit to pay our respects to them. The 
very best of sugar is made in this region, and much of it into solid 
cakes of various sizes, from one pound to twenty. It is manufactured 
here both for home consumption and the market, and the price which 
it has usually commanded during the last ten years has been about 
one York shilling per pound. The labor in this region is about 
equally divided between the women and the men, and considerable 
attention is devoted to the cultivation of the maple-tree. In cooling 
their sugar, or rather in performing the business called "sugaring 
off,'' the Dutch employ immense wrought-iron pans, which are un- 
doubtedly a great improvement upon the Indian and French fashions, 
which arc simply no fashions at all, since the kettle employed to boil 
the sugar arc used to cool it off. 

But the Dutch of whom we are speaking, those especially who are 
more wealthy than their neighbors, have a very sensible mode of 
winding up their sugar-making labors by giving what they term a 
" Sugar-hee.j' or party. The elements which go to make up one of 
these rustic entertainments it would be difficult to describe. We may 
mention, however, that everybody is invited, old men and their wives, 
young men and maidens; that the principal recreation is that of 
dancing to the music of a fiddle ; that a most sumptuous and excess- 
ively miscellaneous feast is spread before the multitude; that the 
people assemble in the afternoon, and generally succeed in getting 
home an hour or two after the break of day. That an abundance of 
maple sugar is met with on these occasions will be readily imagined, 
and we may add that, in those districts where temperance societies are 
unpopular, the sugar is taken considerably adulterated in whisky. 

The last sugar-bee to which we ever had the pleasure of being in- 
vited, while once sojourning among the Catskills, was given by an old 
Dutchman who resided on the side of a mountain, some te)i miles from 
our temporary abode. We started for his house about sundown, in a 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 19 

large lumber-wagon, which was packed b}'' no less than eight buxom 
damsels and four young men besides ourself. Although when step- 
ping into the wagon we were a perfect stranger to nearly all the party, 
we were received as an old friend. The damsels were in high glee ; 
we had a reckless driver and a span of capital horses, and of course 
the young men were not at all backwards in their deportment. The 
first five miles of the road was very good, and, as we rattled along, 
the songs, uncouth and shrill, which were sung awakened many a 
mountain echo. But while all this was going on, and other things 
which we have not time to mention, the sky became overcast, and in 
a short time it began to rain, and a most intense darkness settled upon 
the world. Our driver became bewildered, and the first that we knew 
was that he had lost the road, and that our horses had halted directly 
in front of a huge stump. Having thus unexpectedly been brought 
to a stand, the male members of the party proceeded to reconnoitre, 
and one of them fortunately discovered a light at the distance of half 
a mile. Towards this light did the entire party direct their march, 
and about twelve o'clock succeeded in reaching a log-cabin, which was 
inhabited by an old hunter; and as the guests of this man did the 
party, in a very disagreeable mood, spend the remainder of the night. 
Long before the mists had left the valleys on the following morning, 
the party had worked its way out of the woods, and for a week after- 
wards we were frequently complimented for the important part that 
we had taken in the last sugar-hee. 

"We cannot conclude this article without remarking that maple su- 
gar of rare quality is manufactured in the States of Vermont, New 
Hampshire, and Maine ; but as we have never visited that section of 
the Union in the spring we cannot, from personal observation, speak 
of the New England sugar camps. That the maple sugar usually of- 
fered for sale in the Boston and New York markets is chiefly brought 
from this section of country we know to be a fact, and it is one which 
forcibly illustrates the true idea of Yankee enterprise. 

P. S. — Since writing the above, we have had the pleasure of read- 
ing an interesting description of a maple sugar camp, by the emi- 
nent ornithologist Mr. Audubon, from which we gather the following 
particulars, viz., that the juice of the sugar maple was to him a most 



20 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

refreshing and delicious beverage ; tliat it takes ten gallons of this 
juice to make one pound of grained sugar; that the best of the sirup 
is made at the close of the sugar season j and that the sugar maple 
is found in abundance from Maine to Louisiana^ invariably growing on 
rich and elevated grounds. 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 21 



THE OLD ACADEMY. 

" I feel like one who treads alone 
Some banquet hall deserted." — Moore. 

The iron bolted-cloor swings and creaks upon its hinges, and we are 
standing within the dilapidated walls of " the old academy/' Fifteen 
years have elapsed since we last stood here, a wild and happy school-boy. 
Then, this building was the chief attraction of a little village, which 
was made up of a pretty church, one old store and post-office, and a 
cluster of some twenty rural dwellings, situated on a broad street, ca- 
nopied with venerable elms. In coming up here this afternoon, we no- 
ticed that the various woodlands on the surrounding hills were much 
narrowed by the farmer's axe, and we thought of the armies of men 
which time is continually leveling with the earth. Near a large pool 
in which we were wont to bathe many years ago, now stands a railroad 
depot, where locomotive engines do congregate, to enjoy a brief rest 
from their labors. Upon the walls of the old academy there seemed 
to be brooding the spirit of desolation, and we approached it with a 
heavy heart. 

What a throng of recollections is rushing upon us as our foot- 
steps now echo in the silent and abandoned place ! The past appears 
before us like an open and familiar volume. 

Here we are in the vestibule, where we scholars used to hang our 
caps and coats, and which we remember as the scene of many a scrape 
and scuffle between hot-headed and unfledged lawyers, doctors and di- 
vines ! Oh, how real does everything appear ! We could almost believe 
that not even a week had elapsed since our own loud laugh resounded 
here, when our heart knew not the burden of a care. There is the 
same old rent in the ceiling, which was made by a stroke of lightning, 
during a severe storm, when the whole school were pale and breathless 
with mortal fear; and yonder is the identical peg which Billy Lang- 



22 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

doDj '^ the bully/' tried to usurp from us^ and whom it was our good 
luck to punish with a flogging, thereby securing to ourself a reputation 
for possessing genuine courage. Since then, we have been a dweller 
in the wilderness and pent-up city, and have ever found courage to 
be a valuable quality in our intercourse with men. But a man may 
have a stout heart and yet be poor, unloved and unknown. 

With timid footsteps we move along, peering into each nook and 
corner with curious eye. The threshold of another door is passed and 
we are in the large general school-room, with its rows of desks for the 
boys, and the platform with the large old-fashioned chair in the centre 
for the master. There, upon the floor, lies a tattered copy of Virgil, 
another of Euclid, a few leaves out of the National Preceptor, and a 
chapter or two of Murray's Grammar. Having fulfilled their office, 
they have been thrown aside as of no farther avail, even as some of 
the nohle-hearted in the world are wont to treat their most faithful 
friends. Here, at our side, resting upon its shattered frame, stands 
the identical globe over which we once pondered with a wondering 
heart. It is covered with dust, through which we can just discover 
that the uppermost country is England. True, England is indeed 
without a rival in her glory, but is there not a stain of something 
resting upon her domain ? Look at the condition of her people, who 
are sorely oppressed by the mean ambition of her aristocracy. — But 
to return. How neglected and lonely is this place ! The dust upon 
the floor is so thick that our footsteps are as distinctly visible as when 
we walk upon the snow. A sunbeam stealing through a western 
window points us to the wall where hangs the old forsaken clock. 
Its song of ^^ Passing away" is ended, and has been for many a year; 
but the language of its familiar countenance seems to be, '' They are 
all gone, the pleasant, old familiar faces !" Yes, they are gone — but 
where ? We know not the destiny of a single one. The hour-hand 
is resting upon the figure four, the hour of all others which we boys 
loved. Stop, did we not see the waving hand of our master, and hear 
the bustle of dismission ? Yes, we have caught our cap — we are the first 
one out. Now listen to the loud, clear, hearty shout of half a hundred 
boys. — 'Tis only the vision of a heated brain, and we are sitting once 
again at the same desk and in the same seat which were ours fifteen 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 23 

years ago. Here is the same fantastic ink-blot which we made when 
we indited our first and only poem to the eyebrows of a charming 
little girl, with whom we fancied ourself in love; and there is the same 
square cavity in the desk, which we cut with our knife, and where we 
used to imprison the innocent flies, which remembered fact is a memo- 
rial of our rare genius. But look ! are we not a trespasser ? for here 
cometh an ancient-looking spider with vengeance in his very gait. 
In moving out of his way, we notice that his gossamer hammock is 
in prime order. How like a nabob liveth that old spider ! Around 
his home, we see the carcasses of a hundred insects that have afforded 
him food; he is monarch of all he surveys; and if he desires to be- 
come a traveler, he has but to leap upon the slender threads leading 
to the remotest corners of the room, which are to him safer and better 
than a railroad. This seat, which hath been inherited from us by a 
poor solitary spider, we now look upon perhaps for the last time. But 
we cannot take our final leave without dwelling upon one incident 
with which it is associated. That is the spot where we plead our 
cause, when once arraigned by the masters of the academy for having 
been the ringleader of a conspiracy. It was the third day of July, 
and on dismissing the school, our master had informed us that we 
must celebrate the memorable Fourth by attendiny school. Surprise, 
and a shadow of disappointment fell upon every countenance, and we 
sought our respective rooms murmuring. That evening our marbles 
and balls were idle. At my suggestion, the wink was tipt to a chosen 
band of patriots. We met, and after discussing the outrageous con- 
duct of our principal, unanimously resolved that we would spend the 
following day at the neighboring village of Brooklyn, where we knew 
there was to be a celebration. We went, had a glorious walk, saw 
revolutionary soldiers, enjoyed a sumptuous dinner, heard a smart 
oration, fired unnumbered cannon, saw lots of pretty girls, and were 
at home again a little after sunset. On the following morning, the 
patriots were changed into a band of culprits, standing before our com- 
peers to be tried, condemned and punished. Having been proved to 
be the leader, we are the chief speaker, and, in our boyish estimation, 
^' defender of the constitution.'' Then it was, and in the seat already 
mentioned, that we delivered our maiden speech. It was a powerful ap- 



24 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

pealj no doubt^ but was of no avail. We were condemned^ and our 
punishment was^ to be expelled. The next day, however, the whole 
of us were readmitted as regular members, and thus ended the affair 
of our impeachment. 

Walking in this room and thinking upon this incident has brought 
before us a troop of shadows, that have once had a material existence. 

Our principal was one H , who had thin lips, a sharp nose, gray 

eyes, and a cold heart. He was a good schoolmaster, but nothing 
more. He knew not what it was to be loved, for he could not sympa- 
thize with a single one of his pupils. He seldom smiled, and when he 
did it seemed to be against his nature. He was a most cruel man, as 
a scar upon my poor back might testify even now. What has become 
of him we know not, but if he be among the living, we are sure he is 

a solitary being and a misanthrope. His assistant, named W , we 

distinctly remember as the ugliest-looking man we ever saw ', but he 
was a good-hearted soul, and merited the friendly feelings which were 
lavished upon him so abundantly. When we last heard of him he was 
a much respected and well-established clergyman. And so it is that 
time works its changes. 

Dearly do we love the memory of our school-fellows ! Charley Snow 
was a rattle-headed southerner, who hated books, loved a frolic, and 
spent his money, of which he had an abundance, like water. The poet 
of our academy was Edward Hunt, the son of a poor woman and a 
widow, who lived upon a neighboring farm. He was a beautiful boy, 
fond of being alone, and when with his playmates shy as a captured 
deer. All the manual labor of his home he performed himself, and 
yet he had but few superiors as a student. More than half of his time 
was spent with his mother, and for that reason my heart ever yearned 
towards the noble boy. Our metaphysical philosopher was one Henry 
Clare, who had been made decidedly mad by too much learning. A 
splendid landscape or a brilliant sunset he could not understand, but 
over a piece of gray stone, a homely little insect or a leaf of sorrel, he 
would be in perfect raptures. But the youth who exerted the most 
salutary influence upon us was William Vane, whom his Maker had 
formed a cripple, but gifted with a superb intellect and the disposition 
of an angel. How kindly did he endeavor to cheer up those boys 



KECORDS OF A TOURIST. 25 

who came out of school with blistered hands, or were sujQfering with 
other troubles ! Seldom did we ever hear an oath in the presence of 
William Vane, for few could endure his manly frown and reprimand. 
Many a soul will enjoy, or is enjoying a happy immortality on account 
of that unfortunate — no, that thrice-blessed youth, for from very child- 
hood he was a Christian. One queer fellow that we had with us was 
Joe Leroy. He thought more of performing an odd caper than of any- 
thing else ; but his particular passion was for athletic feats, such as 
climbing, running, and jumping. Once, with the aid of a rope, we saw 
him ascend one side of the academy building, pass over the roof, and 
descend upon the opposite side. He could outrun the whole of us, and 
in the department of jumping he was equal to a kangaroo. Jack 
Harmer was another lad to whom books were a terror. He longed to 
be a sailor, and devoted all his leisure time to sailing a little brig on a 
sheet of water in a meadow, two hundred feet wide. And so we could 
go on for hours, mentioning the names of those who were the play- 
mates of our later boyhood. Where they are, and what their destiny, 
we cannot tell. That our own name has long since been forgotten by 
them we do not doubt. Is it not foolish, then, to cherish their memo- 
ries in our heart as we do ? No, for they are linked with a portion of 
the past that we would have immortal — the spring of our existence. 
The power of recalling the sunny hours of life, we would not part with 
for the world ; next to our dreams of heaven, do we value the dreams 
of our early days. But like a weaver's shuttle is our life, and it were 
unwise for us to forget the future in thinking of the past. If we are 
permitted to live, how soon will our body be like this crumbling edi- 
fice, in whose deserted chambers we are now a pilgrim. Years ago we 
came here to school our mind ; now, we are a teacher ourself, and of 
ourself too, but a very poor one, for we cannot rule the unruly passions 
of our heart. Our only hope is in the fountain filled with blood. 

But if we remember rightly, there is a room in this old building that 
we have not yet visited. Yes, here is the narrow stairway that led 
to the Exhibition Hall in the second story. Cautiously we enter it ; 
but here also has the spirit of desolation a home. On these mutilated 
seats once thronged thousands of spectators; and yonder is the platform 
where the youthful orators were wont to '^ speak in public on the 
3 



26 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

stage/' The only "breathing creature that meets our eye is a little 
mouse running to his hole^ almost frightened to death by our appear- 
ance. When last we stood in this place, thousands of human hearts 
beat happily, for parents listened to the eloquence of their children, 
and those children gloried in the realization of their long-cherished 
hopes. How vivid are our recollections of that exhibition day ! It 
concluded an exile of three years from our far distant home in the wilds 
of Michigan. The period of return our heart panted after continually, 
for we were away from the home of boyhood, from a mother, a father, 
and sisters; and though we often visited, and were under the care of 
kindred, we felt ourself to be alone and companionless. And with that 
day, too, are associated events that flattered our youthful ambition ; and 
though we know them to be idle as a tale that is told, we cannot but 
cherish the memory of that day even for them. But with our last day 
at school are associated some clouds and shadows, the most -prominent 
of which were our leave-takings with our schoolfellows. AVe parted 
for our widely separated homes, and where we all are, or what is our 
present condition are things known only to the Father of the world. — 
It is well — it is well. " Our sorrow voices itself to the stranger many; 
and all that in other days were gladdened by our song — if still living 
— stray scattered through the world.'' It is well. 

But the hours of day are almost numbered, and it is time for us to 
be gone; and besides the glow upon yonder window tells us that " the 
sun hath made a glorious set,'' and that we should improve the hour 
to the gratification of our passion for the poetry of the sky. A few 
moments more, and we are on the green in front of the Old Academy. 
Forgetful of the unnumbered feelings it has inspired and the pictures 
it has recalled, we are wending our way to the home of a kind friend, 
wholly absorbed with the gorgeous appearance of the western sky and 
the solemn twilight by which we are surrounded. The hour is one 
that we have ever dearly loved, for it is the sabbath of the day, when 
a solemn stillness is around, and an unutterable joy is wont to take 
possession of the soul. 



EECORDS OF A TOURIST. 27 



A C C M A C. 

Upwards of two hundred years ago the long peninsula^ now divided 
into the counties of Accomac and Northamptom^ in Virginia^ was 
known by the Indian name of AcoJiawmack. An extensive tribe 
of aborigines who occupied the country bore the same title, and the 
meaning of the word is said to be People loTio live uijon shell fish. 
Next to a scanty record embodied in Captain Smith's History of Vir- 
ginia, the earliest printed account of this region may be found at the 
conclusion of a pamphlet written by one Colonel Norwood, of Eng- 
land, wherein he describes "J. Voyage to Virgmia in 1649/^ At the 
conclusion of his perilous voyage across the Atlantic, it was the 
author's misfortune to be wrecked upon one of the islands on the 
eastern shore of Accomac, and that, too, in the stormy month of Janu- 
ary. To comment upon Norwood's well written and very interesting 
pamphlet is not now our object; but we will remark, in passing, that 
this document, taken in connection with the county records of the pe- 
ninsula, which extend as far back as the year 1632, and also with the 
ancient graveyards of the region, would furnish material for an ex- 
ceedingly valuable and entertaining volume, and we are surprised that 
some enterprising antiquarian of Virginia has not, long before this, 
taken the matter in hand. It is our province to speak of Accomac 
(by which we mean the ancient dominion known by that name) as it 
appears to the traveler of the present day. 

What the distance may be from Washington to the northern line of 
Accomac we cannot imagine, but we know that if the morning cars to 
Baltimore are punctual, and you are fortunate enough to meet the 
Whitehaven steamboat at Baltimore at 8 o'clock, you may enjoy your 
next breakfast at Horntown, a few miles south of the Maryland line, 
and within the limits of Accomac. On board of the steamer which 
brought us down the bay, there was rather a scarcity of passengers 
but among them were some intelligent gentlemen, from one of whom 



28 KECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

we gathered the following items of information. The entire length of 
Chesapeake Bay, from Havre de Grace to Norfolk, is two hundred 
miles ; in width it varies from five to twenty-six miles, and in depth 
from four to twenty-four fathoms. Its shores are low and level, with 
occasional bluffs, however, and its waters clear and of a greenish hue. 
It contains a great number of islands, some of which are exceedingly 
fertile, but destitute of all picturesque beauty. During the autumn 
and winter its shallower waters are filled with almost every variety of 
waterfowl ; it is said to yield a larger quantity of oysters than any 
other section of the globe of the same size ; and it is also famous for 
the abundance and quality of its shad, striped basse or rock- fish, its 
drum, sheepshead, and a species of sea-trout. On approaching the 
Wicomoco river, an island of one thousand acres was pointed out to 
us called Bloods worth Island, which is the property of two men, who 
reside upon their domain, a pair of veritable hermits, who live upon 
fish and waterfowl instead of cultivating their soil. Our attention was 
also directed to a neighboring island, which seemed to be in a state 
of high cultivation, and we were told that the owner thereof had re- 
fused the handsome price of one hundred dollars per acre for the entire 
island. With regard to Deal's Island and Dames Quarter, in this 
vicinity of the bay, we heard the following anecdote. The original 
name of the first was ^^ Devil's Island,'^ and that of the second "Damned 
Quarter,'^ as any one may see by referring to some of the older maps. 
Once upon a time, as the story goes, a Connecticut skipper in his 
smack chanced to make his course up the Chesapeake, and as he was 
a stranger in this region, he hailed nearly every vessel or boat he met 
with a lot of questions. " What island is that V inquired the Yankee 
of a downward bound brig. " DeviVs Island,'' was the brief reply ; 
whereupon the stranger's conscience was a little disturbed. About an 
hour afterwards "What island is that?'' again vociferated the skipper; 
and a Chesapeake fisherman replied, ^^ Damned Quarter." At this 
intelligence, the Yankee was so much alarmed that he immediately 
made a sudden tack, and with his helm "hard up" started for the 
outlet of the bay, and was never heard of more in southern waters. 

The peninsula of Accomac, as nearly as we can ascertain, varies in 
width from eight to twelve mileS; and is not far from seventy miles 



EECORDS OF A TOURIST. 29 

long. Generally speaking, it is almost as level as tlie sea, tlie high- 
est ground not attaining a greater elevation than some twenty feet. 
The soil is of a sandy character, and the forests, which are quite ex- 
tensive, are composed chiefly of pine and oak. The country is almost 
entirely destitute of running streams, and nearly all the inlets, espe- 
cially on the hay side, are lined with extensive marshes, where snakes 
turtles, and lizards are particularly abundant. Along the sea side of 
Accomac lie a successions of sandy islands, which render the naviga- 
tion dangerous, and between which and the main shore the water is 
shallow and far from clear. Two of the above islands, Assateague 
and Chingoteague, are inhabited by a peculiar people, of whom I shall 
have something to say in another place. The only villages in this 
district, properly so called, are Drummontown and Eastville; they are 
the county seats, and though bearing an ancient appearance, they con- 
tain some good houses, and are well worth visiting. You can hardly 
travel eight miles in any direction without coming to a post-office, 
which glories in a village name, and therefore appears on paper to 
much better advantage than in reality. In some parts of the country, 
we frequently noticed houses which seemed to have been abandoned 
by their owners, as if the soil in the vicinity had been completely worn 
out, and could not be profitably cultivated. These household ruins, 
together with the apparent want of enterprise which one notices every- 
where, conspire to throw a gloom over the traveler's mind, thereby 
preventing him, perhaps, from fully appreciating the happiness which 
really prevails among the people. And these (as is the case, in fact, 
with every nook and corner of the world) constitute the principal at- 
traction of Accomac ; for man by nature is a lover of his kind, and 
'•'■ we have all one human heart by which we live.''^ 

If we were called upon to classify the Accomacians, we would di- 
vide them into the gentry, the miscellaneous fraternity, and the slave 
population. The gentry are a comparatively small class, but the 
principal landholders of the district. They come of good old Eng- 
lish families, and are highly intelligent and well educated. The 
houses they occupy are homely in appearance, but well supplied with 
all the substantial that can add to the pleasures of country life. They 
seem to think more of comfort than display, and are distinguished for 

8* 



30 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

their hospitality to strangers. The miscellaneous fraternity to which 
we have alluded is more extensive. A very large proportion of them 
obtain their living from the sea, annually bringing up from its bed an 
immense quantity of oysters and clamS; which they sell to the fisher- 
men of Philadelphia and New York ; but these fishermen not only 
send to market large numbers of fish, but during the winter and au- 
tumn months they make a good deal of money by killing waterfowl, 
which abound on all the shores of the peninsula. The more legitimate 
fishermen of Accomac, who number between thirty and forty voters, 
reside on the neighboring islands of Chingoteague and Assateague. 
They are an exceedingly hardy, rude, and simple-hearted race, and a 
little more at home on the water than on the land. The dangers to 
which they wilfully expose themselves are truly astonishing, and 
almost lead one to suppose that they are web-footed. We have been 
told of one individual who, for the want of a boat, once swam a dis- 
tance of three miles in midwinter merely for the purpose of examining 
the wreck of a brig which had been abandoned by its owners ; and we 
have heard of others who had been upset at sea, a distance of ten miles 
from shore, but who have regained their mother earth with the ease 
and carelessness of wild geese. In the miscellaneous fraternity may 
also be included the mechanics of the country, and all such people as 
stage-drivers, dram-shop keepers, peddlers, and other kindred birds. 

The slave population of this district is decidedly the most extensive, 
and, if we are to judge by their general deportment and by what they 
say, they are undoubtedly by far the happiest class on the peninsula. 
We questioned them occasionally with regard to what we have been 
educated to look upon as a hard lot, but we never saw but one indi- 
vidual who succeeded in rousing our sympathies, and before he finished 
talking to us we discovered that he was a scamp of the first water, and 
therefore not worthy of credit. Every negro in this section of 
country has the evening hours to himself, as well as the entire Sabbath, 
and, instead of being ^'lashed'' into obedience, is constantly treated 
with the utmost kindness. Many of them, who choose to labor for 
themselves, have free permission to follow any employment they please ; 
and we know of several individuals who earn thirty dollars per month 
by voluntary labor, and whose services are valued by their masters at 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 31 

only ten or fifteen dollars ; so that the servant pockets fifty per cent, 
of his monthly earnings. But what proves more conclusively than 
anything, else that the black man's bondage is not unbearable^ is the 
fact that they are the most moral and religious people of the country. 
They are, at the same time, the most polite and the most kindly spoken 
peo]3le that we have met with in our wanderings; and we verily believe 
that they would not break the imaginary chain which now binds them 
to their masters. We confess that we have a natural repugnance to 
the word hondage, but our dread of a mere idea cannot make us deaf 
to the eloquence of what we have seen. It is true that our experience 
has not been extensive, but we cannot see that the slaves so called of 
this region are any more to be pitied than the children of any careful 
and affectionate parent. A goodly number of the blacks in this region 
are free ] and we know of one individual who is not only free, but the 
owner of no less than three farms. 

And now, with regard to those traits which the Accomacians possess 
in common. In religion they are Methodists and Baptists, and in 
politics they belong to the rank and file of the unterrified Democracy. 
Those who are at all educated are highly educated ; but of the twenty- 
five thousand souls who inhabit the peninsula, we suppose that not 
more than one thousand could distinguish the difference between the 
English and the Chippewa alphabet. In the two counties of Accomac 
and Northampton!, the idea of even a weekly newspaper was never 
dreamed of. The people are fond of amusements, which consist prin- 
cipally of dancing and card-playing parties, and the Saturday of each 
week is usually appropriated as a holiday. Any event which can 
bring together a crowd is gladly welcomed, so that court days, training 
days, election days, the Fourth of July, Christimas day. New Year's 
day, and Thanksgiving day are among the white days of the unwrit- 
ten calendar of the Accomacians. The roads of the country are all by 
nature very good, and the people exceedingly fond of going through 
the world as pleasantly as possible ; so that each man who can own a 
horse is sure of owning a gig, and many of them are particularly unique 
and tottleish, something like a scow-boat in a gale of wind. 

But the crowning peculiarity of this nook of the great world has 
reference to the custom of raising and taming wild horses. Like every- 



32 KECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

thing poetical connected with the habits of our people^ this custom is 
rapidly becoming obsolete^ and will soon be remembered merely as an 
idle and romantic tale. The very idea of having to do with wild 
horses excited our fancy the very moment we heard the custom alluded 
to; and we made every effort to collect reliable information upon it, as 
it existed half a century ago. As good fortune would have it, we 
found out an intelligent and venerable gentlemaUj who supplied us 
with many interesting particulars. The " oldest inhabitant '^ to whom 
we allude is the Rev. David Watts, of Horntown, who is now in the 
82d year of his age, and the substance of his information is as fol- 
lows : — 

In the Atlantic Ocean, off the north-eastern shore of Accomac, lies a 
long and sandy island known by the name of Assateague. The dis- 
tance from one extremity to the other is perhaps ten miles, and in 
reaching it you have to cross a bay that is perhaps eight miles wide. 
At the present time, there are only four families residing upon the 
island, one of them having charge of the lighthouse, the remaining 
three being devoted to the fishing business. From time immemorial 
it has been famous for its luxuriant grass, and from the period of the 
Revolution down to the year 1800 supplied an immense number of 
wild horses with food. When these animals were first introduced upon 
the island has not been ascertained, but it is said that they were the 
most abundant about half a century ago. At that period there was 
a kind of stock company in existence, composed principally of the 
wealthier planters residing on the main shore. The animals were of 
the pony breed, but generally beautifully formed and very fleet; of a 
deep black color, and with remarkably long tails and manes. They 
lived and multiplied upon the island without the least care from the 
hand of man, and, though feeding entirely on the grass of the salt 
meadows, they were in good condition througliout the year. They 
were employed by their owners, to a considerable extent, for purposes 
of agriculture, but the finer specimens were kept or disposed of as 
pets for the use of ladies and children. The prices which they com- 
manded on the island varied from ten to twenty dollars, but by the 
time a handsome animal could reach New York or New Orleans, he 
was likely to command one hundred and fifty or two hundred dollars. 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 33 

But by far the most interesting circumstance connected with the 
wild horses of Assateague had reference to the annual festival of pen- 
ning the animals, for the purpose, not only of bringing them under 
subjection, but of selling them to any who might desire to purchase. 
The day in question was the 10th of June, on which occasion there was 
always an immense concourse of people assembled on the island from 
all parts of the surrounding country ; not only men, but women and 
children ; planters who came to make money, strangers who wished to 
purchase a beautiful animal for a present, together with the grooms 
or horse-tamers, who were noted at the time for their wonderful feats 
of horsemanship. But a large proportion of the multitude came to- 
gether for the purpose of having a regular frolic ; and feasting and 
dancing were carried on to a great extent, and that too upon the open 
sandy shore of the ocean, the people being exposed during the day 
to the scorching sunshine, and the scene being enlivened at night by 
immense bonfires, made of wrecked vessels or drift wood, and the 
light of the moon and stars. The staple business of these anniver- 
saries, however, was to tame and brand the horses ; but to give an ac- 
count of all the particulars attending these exciting scenes would re- 
quire more time than I can spare at the present moment. Suffice it 
to say that the horses were usually cornered in a pen, perhaps a hun- 
dred at a time, when, in the presence of the immense concourse of 
people, the tamers would rush into the midst of the herd, and not only 
noose and halter the wild and untamed creatures, but, mounting them, 
at times even without a bridle, would rush from the pen and perform a 
thousand fantastic and daring feats tipon the sand. Few, if any, of 
these horsemen were ever killed or wounded while performing these 
exploits, though it is said that they frequently came in such close contact 
with the horses as to be compelled to wrestle with them, as man with 
man. But, what was still more remarkable, these men were never 
known to fail in completely subduing the horses they attempted to 
tame ; and it was often the case that an animal which was as wild as 
a hawk in the morning could be safely ridden by a child at the sunset 
hour. But enough, until some future day, on this interesting theme. 



34 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 



SALMON FISHINa. 

I like the society of fish, and as they cannot with any convenience to themselves 
visit me on dry land, it becomes me in point of courtesy to pay my respects 
to them in their own element. 

William Scrope, 

Or the genuine salmon^ we believe there is but one distinct species 
in the world ; we are sure there is not in the United States. From 
its lithe beautjj its wonderful activity^ and its value as an article of 
food^ it unquestionably takes precedence of all the fish which swim in 
our waters. It is an ocean-born fish, but so constituted that it has to 
perform an annual pilgrimage into our fresh-water rivers for the pur- 
pose of depositing its spawn. Their running time usually occupies 
about two months, and that is the period when they are in season, and 
of course the only period when they are taken in great numbers. 

The variety of which we speak is a slender fish, particularly solid 
in texture, and has a small head and delicate fins. The upper jaw is 
the larger, while the tip of the under jaw in the female has an upward 
turn. The back is usually of a bluish color, the sides of a silvery hue, 
and the belly pure white, while along the centre of its body runs a 
narrow black stripe. The scales are small, and the mouth is covered 
with small, but stout and pointed teeth. A few dark spots are dis- 
persed over that part of the body above the lateral line, and the fe- 
males usually exhibit a larger number of these spots than the males. 
The tail of the young salmon is commonly forked, while in the adult 
fish it is quite square. To speak of the salmon as a bold biter and a 
handsome fish, or of his wonderful leaping powers, would be but to 
repeat a thrice-told tale. 

And now for a few words on some of the habits of the salmon. He 
is unquestionably the most active of all the finny tribes, but the won- 
derful leaps which he is reported to have made are all moonshine. 
We have seen them perform some superb somersets, but we never yet 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 35 

saw one wliicli could scale a perpendicular waterfall of ten feet. That 
they have been taken above waterfalls three or four times as high we 
do not deny ; but the wonder may be dispensed with, when we re- 
member that a waterfall seldom occurs, which does not contain a num- 
ber of resting-places for the salmon to take advantage of while on his 
upward journey. 

Contrary to the prevailing opinion, we contend that the salmon is 
possessed of a short memory. While fishing in a small river on a 
certain occasion, owing to the bad position in which we were placed, 
we lost a favorite fly, and it so happened that in about one hour after- 
wards a fish was taken by a brother angler, in whose mouth was found 
the identical fly that we had lost. 

This fish is a voracious feeder, and an epicure in his tastes, for his 
food is composed principally of small and delicate fish, and the sea- 
sand eel ', but it is a fact that the surest bait to capture him with is 
the common red worm. 

The salmon is a shy fish, and as he invariably inhabits the clearest 
of water, it is always important that the angler's movements should be 
particularly cautious ; and in throwing the fly, he should throw it clear 
across the stream, if possible ; and after letting it float down for a few 
yards he should gradually draw it back again, with an upward tend- 
ency. 

Like all other fish that swim near the surface of the water, the sal- 
mon cannot be eaten in too fresh a condition ; and, judging from our 
own experience, they may be eaten three times a-day, for a whole sea- 
son, and at the end of their running time they will gratify the palate 
more effectually than when first brought upon the table. 

The process of spawning has been described by various writers, and 
the general conclusion is as follows. On reaching a suitable spot for 
that purpose, the loving pair manage to dig a furrow some six feet 
long, in the sand or gravel, into which the male ejects his milt, and 
the female her spawn ; this they cover with their tails, and leaving 
this deposit to the tender mercies of the liquid elements, betake them- 
selves to the sea whence they came. This spawning operation usually 
occupies about ten days, and takes place in the autumn ; and when the 
spring-time comes the salmon are born, and, under " their Creator's 



36 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

protection/' are swept into the sea^ wliere they come to their natural 
estate by the following spring, and ascend their native rivers to revisit 
the haunts of their minnowhood. And it is a singular fact, that the 
salmon leaves the sea in an emaciated condition, acquires his fatness 
while going up a river, and subsequently returns to the sea for the 
purpose of recruiting his wonted health and beauty. 

The salmon is a restless fish, and seldom found a second time in 
exactly the same spot ; but his principal traveling time is in the night, 
when the stars are shining brightly and all the world is wrapt in silence. 

The salmon come up from the sea during a flood or a freshet, and 
in ascending a river, they invariably tarry for a short time in all the 
pools of the same. Their object in doing this has not been clearly 
defined ; but is it unreasonable to suppose that they are influenced by 
the same motives which induce a human traveler to tarry in a pleasant 
valley ? The only difference is, that when the man would resume his 
journey he waits for a sunny day, while the salmon prefers a rainy day 
to start upon his pilgrimage. The best places to fish for salmon are 
the shallows above the deep pools ; and it is a settled fact, that after 
you have killed a fish, you are always sure to find in the course of a 
few hours another individual in the same place. It would thus seem 
that they are partial to certain localities. Another thing that should 
be remembered is, that salmon never take the natural fly while it is 
in a stationary position, or when floating down stream ; hence the great 
importance of carrying the artificial fly directly across the stream, or 
in an upward oblique direction. AVhen you have hooked a salmon, it 
is a bad plan to strain upon him in any degree, unless he is swimming 
towards a dangerous ground, and even then this is an unsafe experi- 
ment. The better plan is to throw a pebble in front of him, for the 
purpose of frightening him back, and you should manage to keep as 
near his royal person as practicable. Another peculiarity of the salmon 
is the fact that (excepting the shad) it is the only fish which seems to 
be perfectly at home in the salt sea, as well as in the fresh springs among 
the mountains. It is also singular in the color of its flesh, which is a 
deep pink, and the texture of its flesh is remarkably solid : the latter 
circumstance is proved by the fact that you cannot carry a salmon by 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 37 

the gillS; as you cau other fish, without tearing and mutilating him to 
an uncommon degree. 

In olden times there was hardly a river on the eastern coast of the 
United States, north of Virginia, which was not annually visited by 
the salmon ; but those days are for ever departed, and it is but seldom 
that we now hear of their being taken in any river south of Boston. 
They frequented, in considerable numbers, the Susquehanna, the 
Delaware, and North rivers, but were eminently abundant in the Con- 
necticut and the Thames. On the former stream it used to be stipu- 
lated by the day-laborer, that he should have salmon placed upon his 
table only four times in the week ; and we have been told by an old 
man residing on the latter stream, that the value of three salmon, forty 
years ago, was equal to one shad — the former were so much more 
abundant than the latter. But steamboats, and the din of cities, have 
long since frightened the salmon from their ancient haunts, and the 
beautiful aborigines of our rivers now seek for undisturbed homes in 
more northern waters. Once in a while, even at the present time, the 
shad fishermen of the Merrimac and Saco succeed in netting a small 
salmon ; but in the Androscoggin, Kennebec, and Penobscot, they 
are yet somewhat abundant, and these are the rivers which chiefly 
supply our city markets with the fresh article. 

As the ice melts away in the spring, says Dr. J. V. C. Smith, in 
his interesting little book on the Fishes of Massachusetts, they rush 
to the rivers from the ocean ; and it is an undeniable fact, confirmed 
by successful experiments, that they visit, as far as possible, the very 
streams in which they were born. When undisturbed, they swim 
slowly in large schools near the surface ; yet they are so timid, that if 
suddenly frightened, the whole column will turn directly back towards 
the sea. It has also been proven that a salmon can scud at the sur- 
prising velocity of thirty miles an hour. The young are about a foot 
long when they visit the rivers for the first time ; and at the end of 
two years, according to Mr. Smith, they weigh five or six pounds, and 
attain their full growth in about six years. When running up the 
rivers they are in a fat condition ; after that period, having deposited 
their spawn, they return to the sea, lean and emaciated. In extremely 
warm weather, and while yet in the salt water, they are often greatly 
4 



38 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

annoyed by a black and flat-looking insect^ which is apt to endanger 
their lives. As soon, however, as the salmon reaches the fresh water, 
this insect drops off, and the fish rapidly improves. 

The streams which these fish ascend are invariably distinguished 
for their rocky and gravelly bottoms, for the coldness and purity of 
their water, and for their rapid currents. Those which afford the an- 
gler the most sport, are rather small and shallow, and empty into tide- 
water rivers ; while in these they are chiefly taken with the net. The 
tributaries of the Androscoggin, Kennebec, and Penobscot, having all 
been blocked up with mill-dams, the salmon is only found in the prin- 
cipal estuaries ; and as these are large and deep, they are of no value 
to the angler, and will not be many years longer even to the fishermen 
who capture them for the purpose of making money. So far as our 
own experience goes, we only know of one river, within the limits of 
the Union, which affords the angler good salmon fishing, and that is 
the Aroostook, in Maine. We have been informed, however, that the 
regular salmon is taken in many of those rivers, in the northern part 
of New York, which empty into Lake Ontario and the upper St. Law- 
rence, but we are compelled to doubt the truth of the statement. Such 
may have been the case in former times, but we think it is not so now. 
Salmon are not taken at Montreal, and it is therefore unreasonable to 
suppose that they ever reach the fountain-head of the St. Lawrence ; 
this portion of the great river is too far from the ocean, and too exten- 
sively navigated, and the water is not sufficiently clear. That they 
once ascended to the Ottawa river and Lake Ontario we have not a 
doubt, but those were in the times of the days of old. Another pre- 
vailing opinion with regard to salmon, we have it in our power de- 
cidedly to contradict. Mr. John J. Brown, in his useful little book 
entitled the '' American Angler's Gruide,'^ makes the remark, that 
salmon are found in great abundance in the Mississippi and its mag- 
nificent tributaries. Such is not the fact, and we are sure that if "our 
brother'^ had ever caught a glimpse of the muddy Mississippi, he would 
have known by intuition that such could not be the case. Nor is the 
salmon partial to any of the rivers of the far South, as many people 
suppose, not being known in any river emptying into the Gulf of 
Mexico; so that the conclusion of the whole matter is just this, that 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 39 

the salmon jSsheries of the United States proper are of but little con- 
sequence when compared with many other countries on the globe. 
When we come to speak of our territories, however, we have a very 
different story to relate, for a finer river for salmon does not water any 
country than the mighty Columbia — that same Columbia where a cer- 
tain navigator once purchased a ton of salmon for a jack-knife. But 
that river is somewhat too far off to expect an introduction in our 
present essay, and we will therefore take our reader, by his permission, 
into the neighboring Provinces of Canada, New Brunswick, and Nova 
Scotia. 

Before proceeding another step, however, we must insert a para- 
graph about the various methods employed to capture the salmon. 
The Indians, and many white barbarians, spear them by torch-light ; 
and the thousands sent to market in a smoked condition are taken in 
nets and seines of various kinds. But the only instruments used by 
the scientific angler are a rod and reel, three hundred feet of hair or 
silk line, and an assortment of artificial flies. Our books tell us that 
a gaudy fly is commonly the best killer, but our own experience in- 
clines us to the belief that a large brown or black hackle, or any neatly- 
made gray fly, is much preferable to the finest fancy specimens. As 
to bait-fishing for salmon, we have never tried it — we care less about 
it than we know, and we know but precious little. Next to a delicately 
made fly, the most important thing to consider is the leader of the 
line, which should be made of the best material (a twisted gut), and 
at least five feet in length. But if the angler is afraid of wading in a 
cold and even a deep stream, the very best of tackle will avail him 
nothing. It is but seldom that a large salmon can be taken, without 
costing the captor a good deal of hard labor, and a number of duckings. 
And when the character of the fish is remembered, this assertion will 
not appear strange. Not only is the salmon a large fish, but he is re- 
markable for his strength and lightning quickness. Owing to his ex- 
treme carefulness in meddling with matters that may injure him, it is 
necessary to use the most delicate tackle, in the most cautious and 
expert manner. To pull a salmon in shore, immediately after he has 
been hooked, will never do; the expert way is to give him all the line 
he wants, never forgetting in the mean time that it must be kept per- 



40 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

fectly taut. And this must be done continually, in spite of every 
obstacle, not only wlien the fish performs liis splendid leaps out of the 
water, but also when he is stemming the current of the stream, trying 
to break the naughty hook against a rock, or when he has made a 
sudden wheel, and is gliding down the stream with the swiftness of a 
frilling star. The last effort to get away, which I have mentioned, is 
usually the last that the salmon makes, and it is therefore of the highest 
importance that the angler should manage him correctly when going 
down. Narrow rifts, and even waterfalls, do not stop the salmon ; 
and bushes, deep holes, slippery bottoms, and rocky shores must not 
impede the course of the angler who would secure a prize. And 
though the salmon is a powerful fish, he is not long-winded, and by 
his great impatience is apt to drown himself much sooner than one 
would suppose. The times most favorable for taking this fish are 
early in the morning and late in the afternoon j and when the angler 
reaches his fishing ground, and discovers the salmon leaping out of the 
water, as if too happy to remain quiet, he may then calculate upon 
rare sport. As to the pleasure of capturing a fine salmon, we conceive 
it to be more exquisite than any other sport in the world. We have 
killed a buffalo on the head waters of the St. Peter's river, but we 
had every advantage over the pursued, for we rode a well-trained 
horse, and carried a double-barreled gnn. We have seen John Cheney 
bring to the earth a mighty bull moose, among the Adirondac mount- 
ains, but he was assisted by a pair of terrible dogs, and carried a heavy 
rifle. But neither of these exploits is to be compared with that of 
capturing a twenty pound salmon, with a line almost as fine as the 
flowing hair of a beautiful woman. When we offer a fly to a salmon, 
we take no undue advantage of him, but allow him to follow his own 
free will; and when he has hooked himself, we give him permission 
to match his strength against our skill. Docs not this fact prove that 
salmon fishing is distinguished for its humanity, if not for liB fislianity? 
We have set in a cariole and driven a Canadian pacer, at the rate of 
a mile in two minutes and a half, on the icy plains of Lake Erie, and 
as we held the reins, have thought we could not enjoy a more exquisite 
pleasure. That experience, however, was ours long before we had 
ever seen a genuine salmon; we are somewhat wiser now, for we have 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 41 

acquired the art of driving tbrougli the pure white foam even a superb 
salmon, and that, too, with only a silken line some hundred yards in 
length. 

One of the most fruitful salmon regions for the angler to visit lies 
on the north shore of the Grulf of St. Lawrence, between the Saguenay 
and the North-west river in Labrador. A few years ago, however, 
there was good fishing to be had in Mai Bay Eiver, above the Saguenay, 
and also in the Jacques Cartier, above Quebec, but good sport is 
seldom found in either of those streams at the present time. But the 
principal tributaries of the Saguenay itself (particularly the River St. 
Margaret), afford the rarest of sport, even now. The streams of this 
coast are rather small, but very numerous, and without a single excep- 
tion, we believe, are rapid, cold, and clear. They abound in waterfalls, 
and though exceedingly wild, are usually quite convenient to angle 
in, for the reason that the spring freshets are apt to leave a gravelly 
margin on either side. The conveniences for getting to this out-of-the- 
way region are somewhat rude, but quite comfortable and very ro- 
mantic. The angler has to go in a Quebec fishing smack, or if he is 
in the habit of trusting to fortune when he gets into a scrape, he can 
always obtain a passage down the St. Lawrence in a brig or ship, which 
will land him at any stated point. If he goes in a smack, he can 
always make use of her tiny cabin for his temporary home; but if he 
takes a ship, after she has spread her sails for Europe, he will have to 
depend upon the hospitality of the Esquimaux Indians. At the 
mouths of a few of the streams alluded to, he may chance to find the 
newly-built cabin of a lumberman, who will treat him with marked 
politeness ; but he must not lay the " flattering unction " to his soul 
that he will receive any civilities from the agents of the Hudson's Bay 
Company whom he may happen to meet in that northern wilderness. 

A large proportion of these streams run through an unknown mount- 
ain land, and are yet nameless; so that we cannot designate the pre- 
cise localities where we have been particularly successful; and we 
might add that the few which have been named by the Jesuit Mis- 
sionaries can never be remembered without a feeling of disgust. Not 
to attempt a pun, it can safely be remarked that those names are de- 
cidedly 6eas%; for they celebrate such creatures as the hog, the sheep, 

4* 



42 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

and the cow. Tlie salmon taken on this coast vary from ten to forty 
pounds, though the average weight is perhaps fifteen pounds. They 
constitute an important article of commerce, and it is sometimes the 
case that a single fisherman will secure at least four hundred at one 
tide, in a single net. The cities of Montreal and Quebec are supplied 
with fresh salmon from this portion of the St. Lawrence, and the entire 
valley of that river, as well as portions of the Union, are supplied with 
smoked salmon from the same region. The rivers on the southern coast 
of the Gulf of St. Lawrence are generally well supplied with salmon, but 
those streams are few and far between, and difficult of access. But a visit 
to any portion of this great northern valley, during the pleasant summer 
time, is attended with many interesting circumstances. G-enerally 
speaking, the scenery is mountainous, and though the people are not 
very numerous, they are somewhat unique in their manners and cus- 
toms, and. always take pleasure in lavishing their attentions upon the 
stranger. The weeks that we spent voyaging upon the St. Lawrence 
we always remember with unalloyed pleasure ; and if we thought that 
fortune would never again permit us to revisit those delightful scenes, 
we should indeed be quite unhappy. 

The most agreeable of our pilgrimages were performed in a small 
sail-boat, commanded by an experienced and very intelligent pilot of 
Tadousac, named Ovington, and our companions were Charles Pent- 
land, Esq., of Launce au Lean on the Saguenay, and George Price, Jr., 
Esq., of Quebec. We had everything we wanted in the way of "crea- 
ture comforts ;'' and we went everywhere, saw everybody, caught lots 
of salmon, killed an occasional seal, and tried to harpoon an occasional 
white porpoise; now enjoying a glorious sunset, and then watching 
the stars and the strange aurora, as we lay becalmed at midnight far 
out upon the deep ; at one time gazing with wonder upon a terrible 
storm, and then again happy, fearless, and free, dashing over the bil- 
lows before a stiff gale. 

Some of the peculiar charms of fly-fishing in this region are owing 
to the fact that you arc not always sure of the genus of your fish even 
after you have hooked him, for it may be a forty or a twenty pound 
salmon, and then again it may be a salmon-trout or a four pound spe- 
cimen of the common trout. The consequence is, that the expecta- 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 43 

tions of the angler are always particularly excited. Another pleasure 
which might be mentioned is derived from the queer antics and laughable 
yells of the Indians^ who are always hanging about your skirts for the 
express purpose of making themselves merry over any mishap which 
may befall you. The only drawback which we have found in fishing 
in these waters is caused by the immense number of muscpitoes and 
sand-flies. Every new guest is received by them with particular and 
constant attention : their only desire, by night or day, seems to be to 
gorge themselves to death with the life-blood of those who ^'happen 
among them." It actually makes our blood run cold to think of the 
misery we endured fram these winged tormentors. 

Even with the Gulf of St. Lawrence before our mind, we are dis- 
posed to consider the Bay of Chaleur the most interesting salmon 
region in the British Possessions. This estuary divides Lower 
Canada from New Brunswick, and as the streams emptying into it are 
numerous and always clear, they are resorted to by the salmon in great 
numbers. The scenery of the bay is remarkably beautiful : the north- 
ern shore, being rugged and mountainous, presents an agreeable contrast 
to the southern shore, which is an extensive lowland, fertile, and some- 
what cultivated. The principal inhabitants of this region are Scotch 
farmers, and the simplicity of their lives is only equaled by their 
hospitality; and upon this bay, also, reside the few survivors of a once 
powerful aboriginal nation, the Micmac Indians. But of all the rivers 
which empty into the Bay of Chaleur, there is not one that can be 
compared to the Restigouche, which is its principal tributary. It is a 
winding stream, unequal in width, and after running through a hilly 
country, it forces its way through a superb mountain gorge, and then 
begins to expand in width until it falls into its parent bay. The scene- 
ry is beautiful beyond compare, the eye being occasionally refreshed 
by the appearance of a neat flirm, or a little Indian hamlet. The river 
is particularly famous for its salmon, which are very abundant and of 
a good size. But this is a region which the anglers of our country or 
the Provinces, with two or three exceptions, have not yet taken the 
trouble to visit, and many of the resident inhabitants are not even 
aware of the fact that the salmon may be taken with the fly. The 
regular fishermen catch them altogether with the net, and the Indians 



44 RECORDS OP A TOURIST. 

with the speai" and it is a singular fact that the Indians are abeady 
complaining of the whites for destroying their fisheries, when it is 
known that a single individual will frequently capture in a single day 
a hundred splendid fellows, and that, too, with a spear of only one 
tine. It is reported of a Scotch clergyman who once angled in "these 
parts," that he killed three hundred salmon in one season, and with a 
single rod and reel. A pilgrimage to the Restigouche would aiford 
the salmon fisher sufficient material to keep his thinkers busy for at 
least one year. The angler and lover of scenery who could spare a 
couple of months, would find it a glorious trip to go to the Bay of Cha- 
leur in a vessel around Nova Scotia, returning in a canoe by the Res- 
tigouche, and the Spring River, which empties into the St. John. His 
most tedious portage would be only about three miles long (a mere 
nothing to the genuine angler), and soon after touching the latter river 
he could ship himself on board of a steamboat, and come home in less 
than a week, even if that home happened to be west of the Alleghany 
mountains. 

Of all the large rivers of New Brunswick, we know not a single one 
which will not afford the fly fisherman an abundance of sport. Fore- 
most among our favorites, we would mention the St. John, with the 
numerous beautiful tributaries which come into it below the Great 
Falls, not forgetting the magnificent pool below those fiills, nor Salmon 
River and the Aroostook. The scenery of this valley is charming 
beyond compare, but the man who would spend a summer therein 
must have a remarkably long purse, for the half-civilized Indians, and 
the less than half-civilized white people, of the region, have a particu- 
lar passion for imposing upon travelers and charging them the most 
exorbitant prices for the simple necessaries they may need. The sal- 
mon of the St. John are numerous, but rather small, seldom weighing 
more than fifteen pounds. The fisheries of the bay of Fundy, near the 
mouth of the St. John, constitute an important interest, in a commer- 
cial point of view. The fishermen here take the salmon with drag-nets, 
just before high water : the nets are about sixty fathoms long, and re- 
quire three or four boats to manage them. The fish are all purchased, 
at this particular point, by one man, at the rate of eighty cents a-piece, 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 45 

large and small, during the entire season. The other New Brunswick 
rivers to which we have alluded are the Mirimichi and the St. Croix; 
but as we have never angled in either, we will leave them to their 
several reputations. 

We now come to say a few words of Nova Scotia, which is not only 
famous for its salmon, but also for its scientific anglers. In this pro- 
vince the old English feeling for the " gentle art'' is kept up, and we 
know of fly fisherman there, a record of whose piscatorial exploits 
would have overwhelmed even the renowned Walton and Davy with 
astonishment. The rivers of Nova Scotia are quite numerous, and 
usually well supplied with salmon. The great favorite among the 
Halifax anglers is Gold Eiver, a cold and beautiful stream, which is 
about sixty miles distant from that city, in a westerly direction. The 
valley of the stream is somewhat settled, and by a frugal and hard- 
working Swiss and German population, who pitched their tents there 
in 1760. It is fifteen years since it was discovered by a strolling an- 
gler, and at the present time there is hardly a man residing on its 
banks who does not consider himself a faithful disciple of Walton. 
Even among the Micmac Indians, who pay the river an annual visit, 
may be occasionally found an expert fly fisher. But, after all. Nova 
Scotia is not exactly the province to which a Yankee angler would 
enjoy a visit, for cockney fishermen are a little too abundant, and the 
ways of the people in some ridiculous particulars smack too much of 
the mother country. 

Having finished our geographical history of the salmon and his 
American haunts, we will take our leave of him by simply remarking 
(for the benefit of those who like to preserve what they capture), that 
there are three modes for preserving the salmon : — first, by putting 
them in salt for three days,- and then smoking, which takes about 
twelve days ; secondly, by regularly salting them down, as you would 
mackerel ; and thirdly, by boiling and then pickling them in vinegar. 
The latter method is unquestionably the most troublesome, but at the 
same time the most expeditious ; and what can tickle the palate more 
exquisitely than a choice bit of pickled salmon, with a bottle of Bur- 
gundy to float it to its legitimate home ? 



4G KECORDS OF A TOURIST. 



THE FUR TRAPPEES. 

The unique brotherliood of men to whom we now direct the atten- 
tion of our readers have always depended upon the fur trade alone for 
their support, and as the various fur companies of North America have 
flourished and declined, so have the trappers multiplied or decreased 
in numbers. The French, who were the founders of the fur trade on 
this continent, established themselves here in 1606, and the trapping 
fraternity may therefore claim the honor of having existed nearly two 
centuries and a half. To estimate the precise number of individuals 
composing this class at the present time would be an impossibility, 
occupying as they do a section of country extending from the Pacific 
Ocean to Hudson's Bay. 

By the laws of our country they have ever been looked upon as 
aliens from the commonwealth of civilization, and by the Indian tribes 
as trespassers upon their natural and inherited privileges. The blood 
of the white man, though frequently considerably adulterated, invari- 
ably runs through their veins, and the great majority trace their origin 
to a French, Scottish, or Irish ancestry, it being an established and 
singular fact that trappers of pure American blood are exceedingly 
rare. Those of the far north commonly have the dark eyes and hair 
of the Canadian Frenchman, and those of the south-west the flaxen hair 
and broad brogue of the Scotchman or Irishman. The motives gene- 
rally found to have influenced them in entering upon their peculiar 
life are of course exceedingly various, but among the more common 
ones may be mentioned a deeply-rooted love for the works of Nature 
in their primeval luxuriance, want of sufficient intelligence to prosecute 
a more respectable business, and a desire to keep out of the way of cer- 
tain laws which they may have transgressed in their earlier days. 
They are usually men with families, their wives being pure Indian, 
and their children, as a matter of course, half breeds. They have what 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 47 

may be termed fixed habitations, but they are rude log cabins, located 
on the extreme frontiers of the civilized world. In religion, as a class, 
they are behind their red brethren of the wilderness, and their know- 
ledge of books is quite as limited. Generally speaking, they spend 
about nine months roaming alone through the solitude of the forests 
and prairies, and the remaining three months of the year with their 
families or at the trading posts of the fur companies. As their harvest 
time is the winter, they are necessarily men of iron constitutions, and 
frequently endure the severest hardships and privations. Understand- 
ing as they do the science of trapping and the use of the gun more 
thoroughly than the Indian, they eclipse him in the business of acquir- 
ing furs, and from their superior knowledge of the civilized world, 
limited though it be, they realize much greater profits, and hence it is 
that they are not only hated by the Indian but also by the traders. 
Their manner of dressing is ordinarily about half civilized, their buck- 
skin hunting shirts and fur caps, of their own manufacture, appearing 
almost as picturesque as the blankets and plumes of the Indian him- 
self. Like the Indians, too, they prefer richly-fringed leggins to pan- 
taloons, and embroidered moccasins to shoes. To be perfectly free from 
every restraint both of body and mind, is their chief ambition, and to 
enjoy the freedom of the wilderness is their utmost happiness. Those 
who follow their trade among the mountains are commonly banded to- 
gether in parties of half a dozen. They perform their long journey 
altogether upon horseback, and when among the mountains are as ex- 
pert in scaling precipices, surmounting waterfalls, and buffeting snow- 
storms as the more hardy of the Indian tribes. They are expert horse- 
men, ride the best of animals, and take great pleasure not only in deck- 
ing themselves with ornaments, but also in caparisoning their horses 
in the most grotesque yet picturesque manner. As to the animals 
which all of them make it their business to capture, it may be men- 
tioned that chiefest among them all is the beaver ; but a goodly portion of 
their income is derived from the furs and peltries of the martin, otter, 
muskrat, bear, fox, mink, lynx, wolverine, raccoon, wolf, elk, and deer, 
and the robes of the huge buffalo. 

But let us describe the life of the trapping fraternity somewhat more 
minutely, in doing which we shall give an illustrative sketch of the 



48 KECORDS OF A TOUIIIST. 

career of a single individual, describing his departure from home, his 
sojourn in the wilderness, his return home, and his manner of spend- 
ing his brief summer furlough. 

It is a bright October morning, and about the threshold of the trap- 
per's cabin there is an unusual stir. While the trapper himself 
is busily engaged in examining and putting in order his traps, packing 
away his powder and lead, with a number of good flints, giving the 
lock of his old rifle a thorough oiling, and sharpening his knives, his 
wife is stowing away in his knapsack a few simple cooking utensils, a 
small bag of tea and a little sugar, several pairs of moccasins and coarse 
woolen socks, and a goodly quantity of the sinewy material used in 
making snow-shoes. The fact that our friend is about to separate from 
his family for the most part of a year, makes him particularly kind to 
those about him ; and, by way of manifesting his feelings, he gives 
into his wife's possession what little spare money he may have left in 
his pocket out of his eaj^nings of the previous year, and allows his 
children to make as much noise as they please, even refraining from 
scolding them when they kick and abuse his favorite hunting dogs. 
All things being ready, night comes, and the trapper permits himself 
to enjoy another sleep in the midst of his household, but long before 
the break of day he has whistled to his dogs, and, with his knapsack 
on his back, has taken his departure for a stream that rises among the 
Rocky Mountains. If his course lies through a forest land he con- 
tinues to travel on foot, taking his own leisure, killing a sufficient 
quantity of game to satisfy his wants, and sleeping at night upon his 
skins, under a canopy of leaves. If extensive water courses lie within 
his range, he purchases a canoe of some wandering Indians and plays 
the part of a navigator; and if he finds it necessary to cross extensive 
prairies, he obtains a pony, and, packing himself and plunder upon 
the animal, plays the part of an equestrian. When the first blast of 
December, accompanied by a shower of snow, sweeps over the land, it 
finds our trapper friend snugly domiciled in a log shanty at the mouth 
of the river where he purposes to spend the winter trapping for beaver. 

And now all things are ready, and the trapper has actually entered 
upon his winter avoc *^n. He has reconnoitered the valley in which 
he finds himself, and_ , uig ascertained the localities of the beaver. 



EECORDS OF A TOURIST. 49 

witli their houses and dams, he forthwith manages to shoot a single 
male beaver, and having obtained from his glandulous pouch a sub- 
stance called castoreum, he mixes it with a number of aromatics, and 
in three or four days he is supplied with a suitable bait and proceeds 
to set his traps. As the senses of the beaver are exceedingly keen, 
the business of the trapper requires experience and great caution, and 
he glides through the forests almost with the silence of a ghost; but, 
when a master of his calling, he seldom leaves a beaver village until, 
by his cunning arts, it has become depopulated. The war of extermi- 
nation, as already intimated, begins at the mouth of the river, and with 
our friend will only cease when he has reached the fountain-head, or the 
season for trapping comes to an end. The coldest of winds may blow and 
the woods may be completely blocked with snow, but the trapper has 
mounted his snow-shoes, and day after day does he revisit and re-arrange 
his traps. If night overtake him when far removed from his shanty 
(which may be the case more than half the time), he digs himself a hole 
in some sheltered snow bank, and, wrapped up in his blanket by the 
side of his solitary fire, spends a strangely comfortable night. When 
not engaged with his traps, he employs his time in drying and dressing 
his furs ; or, as fancy may dictate, he shoulders his gun and starts out 
for the purpose of capturing a deer, a bear, or some of the beasts which 
are wont to howl him to sleep at the midnight hour. Venison and 
bear meat constitute his principal food, but he is particularly partial 
to the tail of his favorite beaver. The only human beings with which 
he has any social intercourse during the long winter are the poor wan- 
dering Indians who chance to visit him in his cabin ; and at such times 
many are the wild adventures and strange legends which they relate 
to each other around the huge fire of the trapper. And he now enjoys 
to perfection the companionship of his dogs. Companions, it is true, 
of another sort sometimes gather around his lonely habitation to relieve 
his solitude, for the snowy owl hoots and screams at night from the 
huge pine branch that reaches over his cabin, or perhaps an unmolested 
deer manifests its love of companionship by browsing the twigs in 
broad daylight almost at his very threshold. But now fair weather 
Cometh out of the north, and the trapper bef^'' . ^^to think that he has 
secured such a supply of furs as will guaraU' ■' im a comfortable sup- 
5 



50 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

port during the comiDg summer, and one by one lie gathers in his 
traps. The crack of his rifle is now heard more frequently echoing 
through the woods, for he cares not to obtain more beaver skins even 
if he could, and he would obtain a sufficient number of miscellaneous 
furs to render his assortment complete. Pleavj spring rains have set 
in, the water courses are nearly released from their icy fetters, and on 
issuing from his cabin, after a night of conflicting dreams, he finds 
that the neighboring stream has become unusually full. A single 
glance at its turbid waters is enough. He cuts down a suitable tree 
and builds him a canoe, and in this does he stow away his furs and all 
his other plunder; and, seizing his paddle, he jumps into his seat, 
and with a light heart starts for his distant home. 

The rains are over and gone, and although our voyager has already 
been ten days upon the waters, he has yet at least a thousand addi- 
tional miles to travel. Rapids without number are to be passed, 
many a laborious portage must be made around huge waterfalls, and 
at least two months must elapse before he can moor his little barge in 
the haven where he would be. Day follows day, and his course is on- 
ward. All along his route the forest trees are bursting their buds and 
decking themselves with the livery of the vernal season, while the 
grasses and flowers of the prairies are striving to overreach each other 
as they loom into the pleasant sunshine. And then, too, the heart of 
our voyager is cheered by the singing of birds. When night comes, 
and he has lain himself down by his watchfire on the shore, in some 
little cove, he is lulled to sleep by the murmuring music of the stream. 
If, on a pleasant day when he is fatigued, he happen upon an Indian 
encampment and finds that an extensive ball-play or an Indian horse- 
race, or any important medicine ceremony is about to occur, he tarries 
there for a few hours, and then, as his mind dwells upon the grotesque 
and laughable scenes he has witnessed, resumes his voyage in a more 
cheerful mood. Day follows day, and the stream upon which he is 
now floating is broad and deep, and sweeps onward as if rejoicing with 
pride for having triumphed over the obstacles of the wilderness, and 
is rapidly approaching the fields and the abodes of civilization. It is 
now the close of a day in the leafy month of June, and our voyager is 
gliding noiselessly into the quiet cove beside his cabin, and, uttering 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 51 

a loud whistle or wlioop and firing his gun, his wife and children 
hasten to the shore, and — the trapper is at home ! 

The summer time, in the opinion of our trapper friend, is the season 
of unalloyed enjoyment, for it is then that he gives himself up to the 
gratification of all his desires. Having disposed of his furs and pel- 
tries at the nearest trading post for a few hundred dollars in cash, or 
its equivalent in merchandise, he deems himself independently rich, 
and conducts himself accordingly. In a fit of liberality, he orders his 
wife and children into his canoe and takes them upon a visit to the near- 
est frontier village or city, where he loads them with gewgaws, and the 
family spend a few days. The novelty of this visit soon passes away, 
and our trapper with his family are once more domiciled in their cabin. 
A week of inactivity then follows, and the trapper becomes as restless 
as a fish out of water. He is troubled with a kind of itching palm, 
and away he goes upon a vagabondizing tour among the hangers-on 
about the trading establishments, recounting to all who will listen to 
him his adventures in the wilderness, and spending the remainder of 
the summer after the manner of the idle and the dissipated. But the 
first frost brings him to his senses, and the trapper is himself again — • 
for he is thinking of the wilderness < 



52 EECORDB OF A TOURIST. 



THE CANADIAN RECLUSE. 

Or the many singular characters which we have met with in our 
various travels, we remember none with more pleasure, and even 
wonder, than the hero of this chapter. In company with three friends, 
we were upon a fishing cruise along the northern shore of the river St. 
Lawrence, above the Saguenay, and having on a certain afternoon 
steered our little craft into a cove at the mouth of a brook, for the pur- 
pose of obtaining fresh water, we were surprised to find ourselves in 
the immediate neighborhood of a rude but comfortable log cabin. 
Curiosity, as a matter of course, led us to visit the cabin, and introduce 
ourselves to the proprietor. We did so, and were not only warmly 
welcomed, but were invited to tarry with our new acquaintance until 
the next day, and had we not accepted the invitation, the following 
particulars would not now be made known to the public. 

The individual under consideration was a Frenchman, and a native 
of Quebec. He was above the medium height, about forty years of 
age, graceful in his manners, active in mind and body, and altogether 
just the character to rivet the attention of the most casual observer. 
He was wholly ignorant of the world, having never been out of his 
native city, excepting when he took up his abode in this out-of-the- 
way corner of the country, where, at the time we met with him, he 
had been secluded for nearly twenty years. He had a wife (but no 
children) who was as much like himself in appearance and character as 
nature could well allow her to be. He was totally illiterate, and yet 
possessed an attachment to the unwritten science of botany which was 
truly remarkable. His cabin had only two lower rooms and one garret, 
and yet the best of the three was exclusively appropriated to a collec- 
tion of plants, gathered from the neighboring hills and mountains, 
and numbering several hundred varieties, together with large moose 
horns, furs, and other forest curiosities. He knew not the generic 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. Od 

name of a single specimen^ and jet he would expatiate upon tlieir beauty 
in the most interesting manner, showing that he loved them with in- 
tense affection. To the hunting and cultivation of plants he told us 
he was in the habit of devoting more than half of his time, where- 
upon we asked him from what source he obtained his living. He in- 
formed us that having inherited the large tract of land upon which he 
resided, he had come here for the purpose of getting a living out of 
tliat On casting our eyes about, and finding nothing for them to rest 
upon but mountains of solid rock, where even pine trees hardly had the 
courage to grow, we thought his reply somewhat mysterious. He 
smiled at our . perplexity, and then told us that he had two or three 
profitable salmon fishing grounds within a mile of his liouse, which 
were rented out to Quebec fishermen, and yielded him all the necessaries 
of life, and that he obtained his fresh meats with his own hands from 
the forest. 

Had we been inclined to doubt any of the assertions of our friend 
in regard to his good living, all such doubts would have been most as- 
suredly dispelled by what we witnessed and enjoyed before closing our 
eyes on the night in question. Having taken us to the fishing ground 
lying nearest to his cabin, for the purpose of letting us see how the 
salmon were taken in the circular set nets (into which they swam on 
their way up stream when the tide was high, and from which they 
were taken by the hundred when the tide was low), he picked out a 
splendid twenty pound fish, and piloted us back again to his dwelling. 
He then excused himself from further waiting upon us, and, begging 
us to amuse ourselves by examining Ms plants, or doing anything else 
we pleased, he informed us that he must assist his wife in preparing 
our supper. We bowed our most willing assent, and as the sun was 
near his setting, we ascended a neighboring knoll for the purpose of 
enjoying the extensive prospect which presented itself to view. 

We were looking towards the south, and across that portion of the 
noble St. Lawrence where it is without an island, and its shores are 
twenty-five miles apart. The retinue of clouds around the setting sun 
were brilliant to a marvelous degree, and were distinctly mirrored on 
the tranquil bosom of the superb river. In the distance we could 
barely discover the southern shore, forming a long narrow line of pur- 

5* 



54 llECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

pie ; about a dozen miles to the eastward one solitary ship lay floating 
at the mercy of the tide, and in the foreground was the cabin of our 
entertainer, partly hidden from our view by a few stunted trees, and 
apparently hemmed in by inaccessible mountains, while before the 
cabin lay extended some half dozen immense mongrel dogs, which 
were the only living creatures, besides ourselves, tending to animate 
the lonely scene. Silently communing with our own hearts, we watched 
with peculiar interest the coming forth, one after another, of the beau- 
tiful stars, and we could not but think of our distant homes, and of 
the ties which bound us to the absent and loved. One moment more, 
and we heard a loud hallo, which came from the lungs of our Canadian 
friend, who informed us that supper was ready, whereupon we descended 
to the cabin at a pace bordering upon a run. 

And such a supper ! Our host presided, and while two of his guests 
were seated on either side, the hostess occupied the opposite end of the 
table from her husband. She could not speak a word of English, and 
of course uttered all her apologies in French; and though the husband 
pretended to talk English, we begged him to remember that his guests 
all understood French, and that he had better converse as nature dic- 
tated. No objections were made, and we proceeded to business. The 
table was literally loaded ; and, whilst the matron poured out a capital 
cup of coffee, the host overwhelmed the plates of his guests with various 
kinds of meat, most of which were fried or broiled almost to a crisp. 
We gave vent to our curiosity by inquiring the names of the dishes 
we were eating. From this moment, until the truly delicious feast 
was ended, the talking was all performed by the Canadian botanist, and 
the substance of his remarks may be stated as follows : 

^^ That meat in the blue platter, gentlemen, was cut from the hind 
quarters of the biggest hlack hear ever seen among the mountains. 
He weighed over four hundred pounds, and was as savage as he was 
fat and big. I' was climbing along the edge of a hill, about a week 
ago, for the purpose of securing a small yellow flower that I had dis- 
covered hanging from a rock, when the bear in question came running 
out of the mouth of his den, and saluting me with a long scratch on 
the back, I gave him a stab in the belly, and tumbled myself down 
the offset in the most hasty manner imaginable. I always take my 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. b5 

gun with me wlien I go into the woods^ and when I reached the bot- 
tom of the hill I looked out for the bear, and, discovering him on a 
stump some twenty yards off, I gave him a shot, and he made at me with 
the fires of revenge and rage in his eye. I climbed up a small tree, 
and while the rascal made an unsuccessful attempt to follow me, I re- 
loaded my gun and sent another charge directly into his mouth, which 
gave him a bad cough, and in a short time he staggered a few paces 
from the tree and fell to the ground quite dead. / tJicn went hack to 
the cliff to secure my yellow flower , and during that afternoon, by the 
aid of my pony, dragged the bear to my cabin. 

^^ In that dish, with a piece broken from the edge, gentlemen, you 
have a mixture of moose tongue, moose lip, and moose hrains. I spent 
nearly a month moose-hunting, last winter, in company with a couple 
of Indians, and though the snow was deep, the crust hard, our snow- 
shoes in good order, our dogs brave and strong, and moose were nu- 
merous, we only killed about sixteen. I only brought home the heads 
(while the Indians were satisfied with the skins and haunches), but I 
was more than paid for all my trouble, in the way of hard traveling 
and cold sleeping, for in one of the moose-yards that we visited I found 
a specimen of pine icMch I had never seen hefore. It was very soft 
and beautiful, and I think the book-men of England would give a good 
deal of money if they could have it in their great gardens. 

" As to that meat in the white dish, which you all seem to eat with 
such a relish, I think you will be surprised to learn that it is nothing 
but heaver's tail. To my taste it is the sweetest meat in the world, 
and I am only sorry that this valuable animal is becoming so very 
scarce in this section of country. My present stock of beaver's tail 
came from the shore of Hudson's Bay, and, though I bought it of an 
Indian, I had to pay him as much for the tails as the fur company paid 
him for the skins of his animals. I never trapped for beaver myself, 
but I have for otter, and often have great sport in killing seals, which 
are very abundant in the St. Lawrence, and afford to the Indians pretty 
good food during the hard winters. The only thing that I have 
against the beaver is, that he has a fashion, I am told, of cutting down 
for his house such heautiful trees as the hircli, midherry, willow, and 
poplar hefore they are half grown. 



56 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

" As to the salmon upon which you have been feasting, gentlemen, 
you know as much about that particular individual as I do, since you 
saw him while yet in his native element. The men who hire my fish- 
ing grounds pay me so much for every fish they take, and sell them 
at a great profit in Quebec and even in Montreal. From the fisheries 
on this shore are the people of Canada exclusively supplied with the 
salmon, and when we have a good season our merchants manage to 
send over to the United States, in a smoked condition, a good many 
thousand. As to taking them with those pretty little flies, which you, 
gentlemen, always carry in your pocket-books, I never could understand 
how you manage to deceive so sensible a fish as the salmon. Of one 
thing I am certain : if you expect to take any of the salmon in this 
region with those little lines and hooks, you will be much mistaken. 
You will have to go down to the Saguenay, where I am told the fish do 
not know any better than to be deceived by your cunning arts. But, 
if I was ever to follow fishing as you do, it seems to me that instead 
of red, yellow, and blue feathers, I should cover my hooks with the 
hriyht berries and huds which you may find upon some trees even during 
the fishing season:" 

This last remark of our host convinced us that he was indeed pos- 
sessed with a ruling passion, and we of course gratified ourselves by 
humoring him to th^ length of our patience. He not only monopolized 
the conversation during supper, but he did most of the talking until 
bed-time. We spent the night under his roof, sleeping upon bear 
skins, spread on the floor ; and, after an early breakfast, we bade hira 
adieu, and pursued our course down the St. Lawrence. 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 57 



TROUT FISHING. 

It carries us into the most wild and beautiful scenery of nature; amongst the 
mountain lakes and the clear and lovely streams that gush from the higher 
ranges of elevated hills, or make their way through the cavities of calcareous 
rocks. Sir Humphrey Davy. 

Were it not for the salmon, we should pronounce the trout the 
most superb game-fish in the world. As the case now stands, however, 
we are inclined to believe that he has delighted a greater number of 
anglers than any other inhabitant of the " liquid plain.^' The cha- 
racteristics of this charming fish are so well known that we shall not, 
on this occasion, enter upon a scientific description, either of his per- 
son or habits. In all the particulars of beauty, of color and form, of 
grace, of activity, of intelligence and flavor, as before intimated, he 
has but one rival. He always glories in the coldest and purest of 
water, and the regions of country to which he is partial are commonly 
distinguished for the wildness of their scenery; and therefore it is that 
to the lover of nature this imperial fish has ever been exceedingly 
dear. Their period of spawning is in the autumn, and they recover 
as early as February, thereby remaining in season a part of the winter, 
as well as the entire spring and summer — though the trouting months, 
2)ar excellence, are May and June. 

In weight, even when fully grown, the different varieties of trout 
run from four ounces to sixty pounds, and of the different distinct 
species found in the United States and Canada, we are acquainted only 
with the following : 

The Common or Brook and River Trout. — There is hardly a cold 
and rocky stream in any of the New England or Northern States, or 
among the mountains of the Middle and Southern States, where this 
species is not found in abundance. In regard to weight, they ordina- 
rily vary from three or four ounces to two pounds ; and in color, ac- 



68 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

cording to the cliaracter of tlie brook or river wliicli they inhabit. So 
apparent is the difference of color in this family, that, in the several 
sections of the country where they are found, they are designated by 
the names of Silver or Fall trout, as in Lake George ; and the Black 
trout, as in many of the smaller lakes or ponds of New England. 
The only civilized mode employed by our people for taking them is 
with the hook; but, while the scientific angler prefers the artificial fly 
(with an appropriate reel), large numbers are annually destroyed by 
the farmers' boys with the common hook and red worm. As to the 
heathenish mode of netting this beautiful fish, we can only say that it 
merits the most earnest condemnation of every gentleman. The com- 
mon trout is proverbially one of the most skittish of all the finny 
tribes; but, when he happens to be a little hungry, he is fearless as 
the hawk, and at such times often leaps into the air as if for the pur- 
pose of defying the cunning of his human enemies. According to our 
experience, the best bait for early spring fishing is the common worm, 
but for June, July, and August we prefer the fly. Sometimes, how- 
ever, a minnow is preferable to either. The great charm of fly-fishing 
for trout is derived from the fact that you then see the movement of 
your fish, and if you are not an expert hand, the chances are that you 
will capture but one out of the hundred that may rise to your hook. 
You can seldom save a trout unless you strike the very instant that he 
leaps. But, even after this, a deal of care is required to land him in 
safety. If he is a half-pounder, you may pull him out directly ; but 
if larger than that, after fairly hooking him, you should play him with 
your whole lino, which, when well done, is a feat full of poetry. The 
swiftness with which a trout can dart from his hiding-place after a fly 
is truly astonishing ; and we never see one perform this operation 
without feeling an indescribable thrill quivering through our frame. 
The fact that this is the only fish in the world which nature has desig- 
nated by a row of scarlet spots along the sides, would seem to imply 
that she deemed it the perfection of her finny creations, and had, 
therefore, fixed upon it this distinguishing mark of her skill. 

The Salmon Trout. — Under this head we include all those fish of 
the trout genus which are found only in those lakes of our country 
havino; no connection whatever with the sea. The fish now under con- 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 59 

sideration resembles, in its general appearance, the legitimate salmon, 
but is totally unlike it in several particulars. The salmon trout, for 
example, varies in weight from three to sixty pounds; and, if every- 
body is to be believed, they have been taken in some of our waters 
weighing upwards of one hundred pounds. They are also of much less 
value than the real salmon as an article of food, there being nothing 
at all delicate in the texture or flavor of a mammoth fish. As sport- 
ing fish, too, they are of little value, for they love the gloom of deep 
water, and are not distinguished for their activity. The names besides 
its own by which this fish is recognized, are the lake trout and the 
Mackinaw trout ; and, by many people who ought to know better, they 
are often confounded with the genuine salmon. As is the case with 
the salmon, they are seldom or never found in any of our rivers, but 
chiefly in the lakes of the northern and northwestern States of the 
Union, being found in the greatest numbers at the Straits of Mack- 
inaw, in Lake Superior, Lake George, and the other lakes of the Em- 
pire State, and in Moosehead Lake. 

The Sea Trout. — Our idea of this fish is that it is quite at home 
in the "deep, deep sea,^' but rather partial to the brackish waters of 
large rivers and the inland bays of the American coast. And also that 
they vary in weight from three to fifteen pounds, and ought to be 
highly prized as a game-fish, their flesh being of a rosy hue, and excel- 
lent, and their courage and strength allied to those of their more aristo- 
cratic cousin — the salmon. Like the salmon and common trout, too, 
they scorn the more common baits of the fisherman, and possess a de- 
cided taste for the fly, albeit thousands of them are taken with the 
shrimp and minnow. The waters where they mostly abound are those 
of the lower St. Lawrence and its tributaries, the bay of Cape Cod, all 
along the southern shore of Barnstable, the entire shore of Martha's 
Vineyard, and the bays Delaware and Chesapeake. So much for the 
varieties of trout with which we are personally acquainted. 

It now behooves us to record some of our experience in trout fishing, 
but we have already published in our books of travel, and elsewhere, 
quite as many fish stories as will be readily believed. We shall, there- 
fore, content ourselves, on this occasion, with a brief description of our 
favorite localities. 



60 KECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

As a matter of course^ the first place that we mention in this con- 
nection is Saut St. Marie^ which, for many reasons, is an exceedingly 
attractive place. In the first place, it is the outlet to Lake Superior, 
the largest body of fresh water on the globe. It is also the western 
terminating point of the lake navigation of the north. From the 
earliest periods of our history to the present time, it has been, as it 
were, the starting place for all the fur expeditions by land which have 
ever penetrated the immense wilderness bordering on Hudson's Bay 
and the Arctic ocean. The fall of the river St. Mary, at the spot 
called the Saut, is nearly twenty-five feet within the space of half a 
mile, so that from a canoe at the foot of the rapid it presents the ap- 
pearance of a wall of foam. The width of it is reputed to be one mile, 
and on the British side are several beautiful islands, covered with hem- 
lock, spruce, and pine, pleasingly intermingled with birch. The bed 
of the river at this point consists chiefly of colored sand-stones, the 
depth varies from ten to perhaps one hundred feet, and the water is 
perpetually cold, and as clear as it is possible for any element to be. 
But what makes the Saut particularly attractive to the angler, is the 
fact that the common trout is found here in good condition throughout 
the year. They are taken with the fly, and from boats anchored in 
the more shallow places of the river, as well as from the shore. We 
have known two fishermen to spend an entire day in a single reef, or 
at one anchorage, and, in spite of sunlight and east winds, have known 
them to capture more than a cart load of the spotted beauties, varying 
in weight from half a pound to three and four. How it is that the 
fish of this region always appear to be in season has never been ex- 
plained, but we should imagine that either they have no particular 
time for spawning, or that each season brings with it a variety peculiar 
to itself Those of the present day who visit Saut St. Marie for the 
purpose of throwing the fly, ought to be fully prepared with tackle, 
and that of the best quality. With regard to the creature comforts 
obtainable in the village of Saut St. Marie, they will be as well sup- 
plied as in any other place of the same size equally remote from the 
civilized centre of the world. And when the pleasures of trout fishing 
begin to subside they can relieve the monotony of a sojourn here by 
visiting the Indians in their wigwams, and seeing them capture (with 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 61 

nets, in the pure white foam) the beautiful white fish; they may also 
with little difficulty visit the copper mines of Lake Superior, or, if 
they would do their country service (provided they are Americans), 
they may indite long letters to members of Congress on the great ne- 
cessity of a ship canal around the falls or rapids of St. Mary. 

And now for the island of Mackinaw. For an elaborate description 
of this spot we refer our readers to any of the numerous travelers who 
have published its praises, not forgetting, by way of being impartial, 
an account from our own pen already before the public. The time is 
rapidly approaching, we believe, when this island will be universally 
considered one of the most healthful, interesting, convenient, and fash- 
ionable watering-places in the whole country. And the naturalists, 
not to say the angler, will find here the celebrated Mackinaw trout in 
its greatest perfection. And when the Detroit and Chicago steamer 
runs into the little crescent harbor of the island for the purpose of 
landing the traveler, and he discovers among the people on the dock 
some half-dozen wheelbarrows laden with fish four feet long and weigh- 
ing fifty or sixty pounds, he must not be alarmed at finding those fish 
to be Mackinaw trout, and not sturgeon, as he might at first have 
imagined. The truth is, the very size of these fish is an objection to 
them, for, as they have to be taken in deep water, and with a large 
cord, there is far more of manual labor than sport in taking them. 
But when one of these monsters happens to stray towards the shore 
where the water is not over fifty feet, it is then, through the marvel- 
lously clear water, exceedingly pleasant to watch their movements as 
they swim about over the beds of pure white sand. As before inti- 
mated, the Mackinaw trout is far inferior to the common trout as an 
article of food, and to the white fish almost infinitely so. 

The Mackinaw trout (as is the case with all salmon trout) is in fine 
condition throughout the winter months ; and the Indians are very 
fond of taking them through the ice. Their manner of proceeding is 
to make a large hole in the ice, over which they erect a kind of wig- 
wam, so as to keep out the light; and, stationing themselves above the 
hole, they lure the trout from the bottom by an artificial bait, and 
when he comes sufiiciently near pick him out with a spear : and they 
are also taken with a hook. The voraciousness of the Mackinaw trout 
6 



62 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

at this season is said to be astonishing ; and it is recorded of a Canadian 
fisherman that, having lost all his artificial bait, by their being bitten 
to pieces, he finally resorted to a large jackknife attached to a hook 
which he had in his pocket, and which was swallowed by a thirty 
pound fish. Another anecdote that we have heard touching this mode 
of winter fishing is as follows, and shows the danger with which it is 
sometimes attended. An Indian fisherman, of renown among the 
tribes of Lake Superior, while fishing on this lake in the manner above 
mentioned, at a considerable distance from the shore, was once de- 
tached with a cake of ice from the shore and carried into the lake by 
the wind, and was never heard of more. Such a death as he must 
have met with it would be difiicult to describe. 

But we cannot leave Mackinaw without making a passing allusion 
to the fish whose Indian name is ciscovet. It is a beautiful fish, un- 
questionably of the trout family, a bold biter, richly flavored, and quite 
beautiful both in symmetry and color. They are not very abundant, 
and are altogether the greatest fishy delicacy in this region, excepting 
the white fish. They weigh from five to ten pounds, and are remark- 
able for their fatness. At the Island of Mackinaw the common trout 
are not found at all, but in all the streams upon the main shore of 
Lake Michigan, which is only a short distance off, they are very abun- 
dant and very large. 

Another trouting region whose praises we are disposed to sing is 
that of northern New York, lying between Lake George and Long 
Lake. All the running waters of this section of country are abun- 
dantly supplied with common trout, and all the lakes (which are quite 
numerous) with salmon trout. The scenery everywhere is of the 
wildest and most imposing character. The two branches of the noble 
Hudson here take their rise, and almost every rood of their serpentine 
courses abounds in rapid and deep pools, yielding common trout of the 
largest size. But the angler who visits this region must not expect 
to be feasted with the fashionable delicacies of the land, or spend his 
nights in luxuriantly furnished rooms ; he must be a lover of salt pork, 
and well acquainted with the yielding qualities of a pine floor. To 
those of our readers who would become better acquainted with the re- 
gion alluded to^ we would recommend the interesting descriptions of 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 63 

Charles F. Hoffman, Esq., and the spirited though somewhat fantastic 
ones of J. T. Headley, Esq. 

In the ^' times of old" we have enjoyed ourselves exceedingly in 
making piscatorial pilgrimages among the Catskill and Sharidaken 
Mountains, but their wilderness glory is rapidly departing. We can 
now only recommend this region as abounding in beautiful as well as 
magnificent scenery. Now, while we think of it, however, we have 
one little incident to record connected with Shaw's Lake, which beau- 
tifies the summit of one of the Catskills. Having once caught a large 
number of small common trout in a stream that ran out of this lake, 
we conceived the idea that the lake itself must of necessity contain a 
large number of full grown fish of the same species. With this idea 
in view, we obtained the services of a mountaineer named Hammel, 
and tried our luck at the lake, by the light of the moon, with set lines 
and live minnows. During the night we caught no less than forty- 
two trout, averaging in weight over a pound apiece. We were of 
course greatly elated at this success ; and, having enjoyed quite a ro- 
mantic expedition, we subsequently published an account of the parti- 
culars. A few days after this, a party of anglers residing in the town 
of Catskill saw what we had written, and immediately posted off to 
Shaw's Lake, for the purpose of spending a night there. They did so, 
and also fished after the same manner that we did, and yet did not 
capture a single trout. They of course returned home considerably 
disgusted, and reported that the lake in question was covered with 
dead eels, that the water was alive with lizards, that they saw the 
glaring eyes of a panther near their watch-fire, and that lue had been 
guilty of publishing a falsehood. It now becomes us to deny, and in 
the most expressive tone, this rough impeachment, although we fully 
confess that there still hangs a mystery over our piscatorial good fortune. 

If the anglers of New York city are to be believed, there is no region 
in the world like Long Island for common trout. We are informed, 
however, that the fish are here penned up in ponds, and that a stipu- 
lated sum per head has to be paid for all the fish captured. With this 
kind of business we have never had any patience, and we shall there- 
fore refrain from commenting upon the exploits or trespassing upon 
the exclusive privileges of the cockney anglers of the empire city. 



64 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

But another trouting region^ of which we can safely speak in the 
most flattering terms^ is that watered by the two principal tributaries 
of the river Thames^ in Connecticut, viz., the Yantic and the Quinne- 
Laug. It is, in our opinion, more nearly allied to that portion of Eng- 
land made famous by Walton in his Com])lete Angler, than any other 
in the United States. The country is generally highly cultivated, but 
along nearly all its very beautiful streams Nature has been permitted to 
have her own way, and the dark pools are everywhere overshadowed 
by the foliage of overhanging trees. Excepting in the immediate vi- 
cinity of the factories, trout are quite abundant, and the anglers are 
generally worthy members of the gentle brotherhood. When the 
angler is overtaken by night, he never finds himself at a loss for a place 
to sleep ) and it has always seemed to us that the beds of this region 
have a " smell of lavender.'^ The husbandmen whom you meet here 
are intelligent, and their wives neat, affable, and polite, understanding 
the art of preparing a frugal meal to perfection. Our trouting recol- 
lections of this section of New England are manifold, and we would 
part with them most unwillingly. Dearly do we cherish, not only re- 
collections of scenery and fishing, but of wild legends and strange 
characters, bright skies, poetic conceptions, and soul-instructing les- 
sons from the lips of Nature. Yes, and the secret of our attachment 
to the above-mentioned streams may be found in the character of these 
very associations. What intense enjoyment would not Father Walton 
have derived from their wild and superb scenery ! The streams of 
England are mostly famous for the bloody battles and sieges which 
they witnessed for many centuries, and the turreted castles which they 
have only tell us eventful stories of a race of earth-born kings. But 
many of the streams of our country, even in these days, water a virgin 
wilderness, whose only human denizens are the poor but noble Indian 
tribes, who live, and love, and die in their peaceful valleys ; and the 
unshorn forests, with the luxuriantly magnificent mountains, sing a 
perpetual hymn of praise to One who is above the sky and the King 
of kings. 

Of all the New England States, however (albeit much might be 
written in praise of Vermont and New Hampshire, with their glorious 
Green and White Mountains), we believe that Maine is altogether the 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 65 

best supplied. In the head waters of the Penobscot and Kennebec, 
the common trout may be found by the thousand ; and in Moosehead 
Lake, as before stated, salmon trout of the largest size and in great 
numbers. This is even a more perfect wilderness than that in the 
northern part of New York, and it is distinguished not only for its 
superb scenery, but its fine forests afford an abundance of large game, 
such as moose, deer, bears, and wolves, which constitute a most decided 
attraction to those disciples of the gentle art who have a little of the 
fire of Nimrod in their natures. 

Another, and the last region towards which we would direct the 
attention of our readers, is that portion of Canada lying on the north 
shore of the St. Lawrence. At the mouth of all the streams here 
emptying into the great river, and especially at the mouth of the Sa- 
guenay, the sea trout is found in its greatest perfection. They vary 
from five to fifteen pounds, and are taken with the fly. But what 
makes the fishing for them particularly interesting, is the fact that 
when the angler strikes a fish it is impossible for him to tell, before 
he has seen his prize, whether he has captured a salmon trout, a mam- 
moth trout, common trout (which are here found in brackish or salt 
water), or a magnificent salmon, glistening in his silver mail. 



6* 



66 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 



ROCK CREEK. 

It was a delightful autumnal morning, and we had called upon a 
friend (who, like ourself, is a lover of nature), and proposed that we 
should spend a day in the woods; whereupon he whistled for his 
handsome greyhound, and with our sketch-books in hand, we departed. 
We turned our faces towards Rock Creeh, which rises in the central 
portion of Montgomery county, Maryland, and after running a dis- 
tance of some fifteen miles, finally empties into the Potomac, between 
Washington and Gi-eorgetown. And now, before going one step fur- 
ther, we wish to inform the reader that it is not our intention to give 
a complete description of this charming stream : to accomplish that 
task faithfully it would be necessary for us to write a thousand poems 
and paint at least a thousand pictures, every one of which should be a 
gem. We purpose only to record the more prominent impressions 
which have been left upon our mind by the excursions to which we 
allude. 

We struck the creek just without the limits of the city, and the 
first object that attracted our attention was " Decatur's tomb." This 
memorial of a departed naval hero occupies the summit of a pictur- 
esque hill, and is shaded from the sun by a brotherhood of handsome 
oak trees. It is built of bricks (which are painted white), and resem- 
bles in shape a small Grecian temple without its columns, and is with- 
out any inscription. The remains of the commodore were originally 
deposited here, but his ashes have subsequently been removed to 
Philadelphia and deposited in his family vault. The land upon which 
this tomb is located is called Kalorama, and belongs to an estate origi- 
nally owned by Joel Barlow, which fact is alone sufficient to give it a 
reputation ; but it is somewhat more interesting to know that it was 
upon this spot of earth that Robert Fulton first tried his experiments 



RECOKDS OF A TOURIST. 67 

while studying out the science of steam navigation. This was at the 
time when Barlow and Fulton were on the most intimate terms of 
friendship, and Kalorama was Fulton's principal home. A gentleman 
residing in Georgetown informs us that he can remember the time 
when an old wooden shed was standing in the vicinity of Rock Creek, 
where Fulton tried many of his experiments ; and we are also informed 
that the parlor walls of Kalorama were once ornamented with fresco 
paintings executed by Fulton at the request of his friend Barlow. 
Subsequently to that period and while yet a member of Barlow's 
family, Fulton kept an account-book, in which he recorded all his 
business transactions, and that curious and valuable relic of the de- 
parted engineer is now in the possession of a citizen of \yashington, by 
whose politeness we are privileged to gratify our antiquarian readers 
with a brief description of the account-book in question. It is of the 
size of an ordinary mercantile cash-book, and although only half filled 
with writing, it contains a record of business transactions occurring 
during the years 1809,-'10,-'11,-'12,-'13, and '14. It seems to 
have been kept with little regard to method, but nevertheless contains 
a great variety of items which are quite valuable in a historical point 
of view. On a fly leaf, for example, we have the following record : — 

'^1813. The dry-dock finished at the steamboat works in Jersey 
City on the 14th October. On that day, at 1 o'clock, the original 
North River steamboat entered for the first time, and I believe is the 
first vessel that has been in a dry-dock in the United States." : — 

\Yith regard to the name of the " original North River steamboat," 
I am not certain; but on the same leaf with the above, I find the fol- 
lowing memorandum : — 

" Oar of JSfeptune — length of her bottom 157 feet; do. on deck 171 
feet 6 inches; extreme width of the bottom 22 feet; do. on deck 26 
feet." 

With a view of showing the profitableness of the steam-boating busi- 
ness in the olden times, I append the following : — 



68 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

^^ Total number of passengers in the Raritan for 1809 : 

202 to Elizabethtown Pointy at 4s. each 101 00 

1, 480 to Amboy, at 8 do 1,480 50 

692 to Brunswick, at 12 do 1,038 75 

90 way , 55 20 

Total receipts 2,675 45 

" Of this sum one-sixth, equal 445 90, to patentees.'^ 

Of the various persons with whom Fulton seems to have had ex- 
tensive dealings, the principal one was Robert R. Livingston, from 
whom large sums of money were frequently received. The principal 
items under the head of 1813 (which seems to have been a very busy 
year), give one an idea of the extent of Fulton's business, and is as 
follows : — 

^^ Steamboats building and engaged : 

2 from New Orleans to Louisville and St Louis, 

Mississippi • • • $60,000 

1 " Pittsburg to Louisville, Ohio 25,000 

1 '' Richmond to Norfolk, James River 35,000 

1 '' Washington to Malbourg, Potomac 20,000 

1 on Long Island Sound, from New York to Hartford . 40,000 

1 ^^ East River ferry boat to Brooklyn . . . . 20,000 

1, Petersburg . . . • 25,000 

1, Elizabeth 30,000 

1, Robert Fulton 25,000 

1, Charleston 30,000 

1, Cape Fear 22,000 

Total $332,000" 

Another record which I find under the same head is this : — 

" Waters under the direction of B. H. Latrobe, or such of them as 
he shall have a steamboat on and in actual operation by January, 1815. 
Such as shall not have the funds raised for one boat within one year 
from May 1, 1813, shall be at the disposal of Livingston and Fulton. 

" 1st, Potomac, from Georgetown to Potomac Creek. 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. G9 

^^2cl^ for the sounds from Charleston to Savannah. 
" 3d, from Pittsburg to Louisville. 
^' 4th, the Cumberland from Nashville to Louisville. 
" 5th, the Tennessee to Louisville. 

" For raising companies, funds, and establishing these, he has to 
have of each one-third of the patentee's rights. '^ 

Under the head of 1812, we find a statement giving the expenses of 
a North Kiver steamboat (what one we know not), which amounted to 
$610 per month, the boat making seventy-six trips. And as to wages, 
we gather that the captain received $50 per month; pilot, $35; en- 
gineer, $35; seamen and firemen, $20 each; cook, $16; servants, $14 ; 
and chambermaid, $8. 

Another record readeth as follows : — 

" Gentlemen of injiuence In Cincinnati, Ohio. — Jacob Burnet, Esq., 
Martin Baum, Esq., Jesse Hunt, General Findley, General Gano, Mr. 
Stanly." 

The following I find under the head of " Notes on Steamboats :" — 

"The Comet constructed at Pittsburg in the spring of 1813, for 
Mr. Smith, is 52 feet long and 8 feet beam, cylinder 6 J inches dia- 
meter, 18 inches stroke, vibrating motion, no condenser or air-pump. 
The water wheel in the stern, 6 feet diameter, 8 paddles 2 feet 6 
inches long and 11 inches wide. The boiler 14 feet long, 2 feet 6 
inches wide, with a flue high, steam from 50 to 60 pounds to the inch 
square, 20 to 30 double stroke a minute. This is Evanses idea of 
steam jpoicer hy high steain. It 2vas the Marquis of Worcester's 120 
years ago ; and Mr. Watts 30 years ago tried and abandoned it." 

Another curious memorandum, which is without a caption, is as 
follows : — 

" 10,000 acres of pine land on Egg Harbor River, the property of 
Ebenezer Tucker, of Tuckerton, Burlington county, known by the 
name of Judge Tucker. Should this land produce only ten cords to 
an acre, it will be 1,000 to 100 acres, or 100,000 cords. The steam- 
boats from New York will use 1,500 cords a year, or, for New York 



70 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

and Albany, 3,000 cords; thence 20 years would consume tlie wood 
of 6,000 acres, in which time, the first cut would grow up, and thus 
this 10,000 acres would perpetually supply the steamboats." 

The longest record in this account book (like all the others) is in 
Fulton's own handwriting, and entitled ^'Livingston and Fulton vs. 
Lake Champlain hoat.'^ It occupies four closely written pages, is 
dated October 12, 1810, and signed by Robert R. Livingston. It is 
an interesting document, but as the volume in question is about to be 
presented to the New York Historical Society, I will leave it with 
that honorable body to give it to the public in some of their interest- 
ing publications. 

But enough of this episode. Though Rock Creek may have been 
the birthjolace of Fulton's steamboat idea, yet it is certain that, with 
all his fiery monsters at our command, we could never ascend this 
beautiful stream without the use of our legs, and we will therefore re- 
join our companion and continue our pedestrian pilgrimage. 

Our next halting-place, after we left Kalorama, was at an old mill, 
located in the centre of a secluded glen. With the humming music 
• of its wheels, with the polite attentions of the floury miller, and the 
rustic beauty of his cottage and children, we were well pleased, but 
with the natural loveliness of the place we were delighted. A greater 
variety of luxuriant foliage I never before witnessed in so limited a 
nook of the country. From one point of view a scene presented itself 
which was indeed exquisite. We were completely hemmed in from 
the great world, and, in addition to the mill and the cottage, we had a 
full view of the stream, which was spanned by a rustic foot bridge, 
upon which a couple of children were standing and throwing pebbles 
in the water, while a few paces beyond a man was pulling to the shore 
a small boat laden with wood. On either hand, a number of proud- 
looking oaks towered against the sky, and by the water's edge in the 
distance stood a stupendous silver willow, literally white with age; 
and, to complete the picture, we had in one place a mysterious brick 
ruin, and in the foreground a variety of mossy rocks, upon which, in 
a superb attitude, stood our beautiful greyhound, watching a little 
army of minnows sporting in a neighboring pool. And with what 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 71 

great name does our reader imagine this beautiful place is associated ? 
None other than that of the late John Quincy Adams, who became 
its purchaser many years ago, and to whose estate (as I believe) it 
now belongs. And many a time, in other days, has that distinguished 
statesman spent his morning under the dome of the capitol in political 
debate, and the afternoon of the same day in this romantic glen, list- 
ening to the singing of a thousand birds, which had built their nests 
in the branches of his own trees. 

The roads which cross the channel of Rock Creek, and frequently 
run for a long distance along its winding vale, are distinguished for 
their loneliness, and of course well adapted to please the poetic mind. 
Along many of them you might walk for miles without meeting a human 
being, but then you would be sure to frighten many a rabbit, and de- 
stroy the gossamery hammocks of unnumbered spiders. While passing 
along the road which took us from Adams' Mill further up the stream, 
we chanced to overtake a small negro boy (who was almost without 
any rags on his back, and whose straw hat looked as if the cows had 
feasted upon its brim), with whom our companion held the following 
dialogue : — 

^^ Boy, where are you going ?" 

'^ I'm gwine down to Mr. Pierce's." 

And here — taking out his pencil, holding up his sketch-book, and 
looking very fiercely at the darkie — our friend exclaimed, " I'll sketch 
you, you rascal." 

"Whereupon the poor boy uttered a most frightful yell, and ran away 
in the greatest consternation, as if we had been a pair of murderers. 

Our next stopping-place was at a cider mill, where an old negro, 
with the assistance of a mule, was grinding apples, and another man 
was pressing the sweet juice into a mammoth tub. A lot of boys, who 
were out on a chestnut gathering excursion, had discovered the mill, 
and having initiated themselves into the good graces of the darkies, 
were evidently enjoying a portion of Mr. Horace Greeley's celebrated 
" good time." 

But it is now about noon, and we have reached that spot upon Rock 
Creek known as Pierce's Plantation. Here we found the ruins of an 
old saw-mill, and while transferring a portrait of it to our sketch-book. 



72 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

with its half decayed dam, and two or three hoary sycamores and elms, 
we discovered a boy in the act of fishing. We bowed to him as to a 
brother angler, and looking into his basket, we found snugly lying 
there no less than half a dozen handsome fall* fish, weighing from six 
ounces to a pound each. These we of course purchased, and then in- 
quired of the boy if he knew of a house in that vicinity where we 
could likely have the fish cooked. He replied in the affirmative, 
whereupon we sent him to the dwelling he mentioned for the purpose 
of warning the inmates of our approach. On our arrival there we were 
warmly welcomed, and in due time we had the satisfaction of enjoying 
as finely cooked fish as ever tickled the palate of Izaak Walton or Sir 
Humphrey Davy. Not only were we waited upon with marked polite- 
ness, but were treated with an abundance of delicious currant wine 
and new cider, and for all this truly southern hospitality we could 
make no return, excepting in the way of gratitude. 

But, pleasant as was our reception and repast at this Rock Creek 
cottage, our own mind was more deeply impressed with the exquisitely 
charming appearance of the cottage itself and surrounding buildings. 
It struck us as one of the most comfortable and poetical nooks that we 
ever beheld. It seemed to have everything about it calculated to win 
the heart of a lover of nature and rural life. Though situated on the 
side of a hill and embowered in trees, it commands a pleasing landscape ; 
and as it was built upwards of one hundred years ago, it is interesting 
for its antiquity. Surmounted as it is with a pointed roof, green with 
the moss of years, and flanked by a vine-covered porch, the vegetation 
which clusters around it is so abundant that you can hardly discover 
its real proportions. And all the out-buildings are in strict keeping 
with the cottage itself. It is, upon the whole, one of the most inte- 
resting nooks to be found anywhere within an hour's ride of the 
capitol; and we can fully understand what a certain wealthy gentleman 
fdt when he made the remark that this Rock Creek cottage was the 
only place he had ever seen which he would prefer to his own, albeit 

* The Fall Fish of Rock Creek is evidently identical with the Dace of Wal- 
ton ; it is really a beautiful and sweet fish, and well deserves its local reputation. 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 73 

his own residence is one of the most costly and beautiful in the Dis- 
trict of Columbia. 

The scenery of Rock Creek for several miles above the Pierce Plan- 
tation is chiefly distinguished for its simple and quiet beauty. The 
whole vale in fact is remarkably luxuriant, and probably contains as 
great a variety of foliage as can be found in the same space in any 
section of the country. For miles and miles do the trees come together 
as if for the purpose of protecting the murmuring stream from the 
kisses of the sunlight, and even in September birds and flowers are 
quite abundant ; for here it is (it would seem) that summer lingers 
longest in the lap of autumn. And such vines, too, as cluster along 
the margin of this stream ! The graceful net-work which they have 
formed over the tiny waterfalls and the deep dark pools, with all their 
tendrils, are graceful beyond compare; and while happy children go 
there at times to gather the luscious grapes, we are certain that the 
little people of fairyland are well content with their allotted privilege 
of using the swing of the vine, while in the enjoyment of their mid- 
night revels. 

But we find that we are getting to be decidedly too poetical for our 
own safety and the comfort of our readers, and as the sun has long 
since passed the meridian, it is time that we should think of returning 
home. And, besides, as we shall return to the city by a difi"crent route 
from the one we came, we purpose to introduce to our readers one or 
two more ^^ places of note'' which are identified with Rock Creek. 

And first as to the Rock Creek church, which lies somewhere between 
one and two miles eastward of the stream from which it derives its 
name. The original Rock Creek chapel was founded in the.year 1719, 
and the bricks employed in its construction were brought from England. 
It became a parish church in 1726, at which time the glebe land (as 
at the present time, I believe) amounted to one hundred acres. It 
was rebuilt in the year 1768, and many improvements added in the 
year 1808. The first rector of the church was the Rev. G-eorge Mur- 
dock, who officiated for thirty-four years; his successors were Rev. 
Alexander Williamson, Rev. Thomas Read, Rev. Alfred Henry 
Dashields, Rev. Thomas Gr. Allen, Rev. Henry C. Knight, Rev. Levin 
I. Grills, Rev. Edward Waylen, and the present incumbent, Rev. Wil- 
7 



74 KECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

liam A. Harris. Of Mr. Read it is recorded that he presided over the 
church for forty years, during the whole of which time he was absent 
only thirty months; and with regard to Mr. Waylen, it may be stated 
that he compiled an interesting history of the Parish, which was pub- 
lished in 1845. 

The appearance of Rock Creek church as it now stands is simply 
that of an old-fashioned but very comfortable brick church. It occu- 
pies the summit of a gentle hill, and is completely surrounded with a 
brotherhood of fine oak and chestnut-trees. On every side of it tombs 
and grave-stones are quite abundant, and some of them are so very old 
as to be almost entirely hidden in the earth. Although we spent nearly 
an hour in this city of the dead deciphering the various epitaphs, we 
only stumbled upon one which attracted our particular attention ; it was 
a simple stone slab, covered with moss, upon which was this touching 
record : — 

*' Grant, Lord, when I from death do tvake, 
I may of endless life partake. 
J. R. 

1802." 

And now, by way of variety, suppose our readers tarry with us for 
a few moments at the residence of a certain retired banker, which lies 
only a short distance from the Rock Creek church. With the elegant 
mansion and highly cultivated grounds, everybody must of necessity 
be pleased, for we believe that a more tasteful and superb place is not 
to be found in the country. It caps the summit of the loftiest hill in 
the vicinity of Washington, and while in one direction it commands a 
view of the Allegheny Mountains, in another lies spread out a com- 
plete panoramic view of the metropolis of the land, with a magnificent 
reach of the Potomac extending a distance of at least forty miles. To 
comment upon the spirits who preside over the mansion to which we 
have alluded is not our purpose, but we may mention in passing that 
among the numerous productions of art which adorn the interior are 
two capital pictures by IMorland, and a very fine landscape by Gains- 
borough. But enough. The sun is already near the horizon, and even 
now the latter half of our walk home must be by the light of the 
moon. And so much for a vagabondizing day on Rock Creek. 



RECOKDS OF A TOURIST. 75 



LILLY LARNAED. 

All that life can rate 
Worth name of life, in her hath estimate; 
Youth, beauty, wisdom, courage, virtue, all 
That happiness and prime can happy call. 



Sh 



AKSPEARE. 



Lilly Larnard is an only child; the pride of her mother, and the 
delight of her father, who is the clergyman of a secluded and beautiful 
New England village. We desire to make our reader acquainted with 
this dear girl, but what can we find to say which hath not been anti- 
cipated by the poet? Her character is already revealed. Well, then, 
since we happen to be an intimate acquaintance and are in the mood, 
we will say something about her by way of illustration. 

As we passed by her cottage this afternoon, which stands on the 
southern extremity of the green, about a hundred paces from the meet- 
ing-house, we noticed an almost startling stillness about the premises, 
as if the place were deserted; but this was owing to the heat and na- 
tural silence of the hour. The closed window-blinds, half hidden by 
woodbine and honeysuckle; the open doors, with a kitten sunning 
itself upon the sill of one of them, bespoke it not only inhabited, but 
the abode of peace and contentment. In a green grape-vine arbor be- 
side the house sat our little heroine, engaged in drawing some curious 
flowers, which she had gathered in the meadow during her morning 
walk. At this moment two of her female cousins stopped at the front 
gate, and called her to go with them on a ramble through the wood- 
lands. We had just time to change from one hand to the other our 
heavy string of trout, for we were returning home from angling, when 
out siie came, bounding like a fawn, robed in white muslin, her gipsy 
bonnet awry, and a crimson scarf thrown carelessly over her shoulders. 
This simple dress is a specimen of her taste in such matters, and the 



76 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

very thing to correspond with her dark-brown curling hair, regular 
pearly teeth, blue, Madonna-like eyes, and blooming cheeks. A snow- 
white terrier, her constant playmate and companion, soon came follow- 
ing after, and having licked the hands of the two friends, as a token 
of recognition, leaped a neighboring fence, and led the way across a 
clover-field. When we turned to look again, the happy group were 
crossing a rude bridge at the foot of a hill ; and following the path a 
short distance, they were lost to view. 

Lilly Larnard is now in her sixteenth year. She is passionately 
fond of the country ; and we do believe, could she obtain permission, 
would spend half her time in the open air. If she has but one sum- 
mer hour to spare, she goes no farther than her favorite brook, half a 
mile from home, where she will angle away her time, wandering up 
the stream to where the overhanging trees throw a soft twilight upon 
her path ; and, if necessiti/ requires it, will off with her slippers, and 
wade in after a bunch of lilies or some golden pebbles. The neigh- 
boring farmer, as he comes to the post-office early in the morning, if 
he chances to pass the parsonage, will most likely be saluted by a sweet 
smile and bow. And from whom, do you think ? From Lilly Lar- 
nard, to be sure, who is airing the parlor, dusting the furniture, or ar- 
ranging some creeping flowers beside the door with her pretty face 
almost hidden in a '^ kerchief white. ^' And it may be, when mowing 
in one of his fields in the afternoon, he will be surprised by a hearty 
laugh in an adjoining copse, and on looking around behold a party of 
girls returning from the strawberry hills, with Lilly as their leader. 
She is a pure-hearted lover of nature, and everything, from the name- 
less flower to the cloud-capt mountain, hath a language which causes 
her to feel that the attributes of God are infinite. For her gayer hours. 
Nature " hath a tale of gladness, and a smile and eloquence of beauty, 
and glides into her darker musings, with a mild and gentle sympathy, 
which steals away their sharpness ere she is aware.'^ 

But how does she busy herself at home? it will be asked. She is 
an early riser; and the first thing she does in the morning, after she 
has left her room, is to put everything in its place which is out of place. 
She kindly directs and helps Betty, the servant, to perform those 
numerous little household duties, such as feeding the chickens and 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 77 

straining the milk, not forgetting to give pussy a saucer full of the 
warm, sweet liquid. She sets the breakfast table, prepares the toast, 
and all those kindred delicacies, and pours out the coffee, sitting like 
a fairy queen in the old high-backed chair, with her parents on either 
side. And when her father clasps his hands to implore a blessing, 
she meekly bows her head, sweetly responding to the solemn Amen. 
If anything is wanted from the kitchen, she is up and away, and back 
again almost in a minute, so sprightly is she in all her movements. 
During the forenoon, she is generally helping her mother to sew or 
knit, or do anything else which is required to be done ; or, if her father 
wants her to read one of his chaste and deeply religious sermons, the 
sweetness of her eloquent voice makes it doubly impressive. In the 
afternoon, she is generally engaged in some benevolent duty. Not one 
in a hundred is so well acquainted with the poor of the parish. 

She enters the abode of the poor widow, and, besides administering 
to her temporal wants, gives her the overflowing sympathy of her own 
warm heart, administering at the same time the consolations of religion. 
It is a common sight to see her tripping along the street, with a bas- 
ket on her arm ; and the clerk, or more stately merchant, as he sees 
her pass his door, takes particular pains to make a bow, inwardly ex- 
claiming — "Who now is to become the debtor of Lilly Larnard?'^ 
And the stranger who may have met her in his walk, fails not to in- 
quire of his host, at evening, the name of the lovely creature who 
wears a white dress and gipsy bonnet. 

Lilly is a Christian, not only a church-going Christian, but her life 
is one continued round of charitable deeds and pious duties, almost 
worthy of an angel. She has a class of little boys in the Sabbath 
school, and they are all so fond of their amiable teacher that I do be- 
lieve they would undergo almost any trial for her sake. She loves her 
Bible too, and would be unhappy were she deprived of the privilege of 
reading it every day. When she rises from her pillow at dawn, she 
kneels beside her couch, and breathes her offering of prayer ; and so, 
too, when the day is closed and she retires to repose. 

Her father is a clergyman of easy fortune. The prayer of his youth 
seems to have been kindly answered by the Most High. About one 
year ago he bought a beautiful chestnut pony, and, all saddled and 

7* 



78 KECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

bridled, presented it to Lilly on her fifteenth birthday. As might be 
expected, she was perfectly transported with the gift. ^^Oh! father/' 
she exclaimed, "how I will try to merit your approbation in every 
action of my life." 

A colored boy, named Tommy, is Lilly's groom and page, and he 
seems to love the pony and his mistress above everything else in the 
world. A smarter and better-hearted page did not follow a high-born 
lady of the feudal times. Lilly has now become a first-rate rider ; and 
often, when with her friends, takes pleasure in boasting of her noble 
accomplishment, and the speed of her horse. When she has been out 
riding, she almost always manages to canter through the middle street 
of the village on her return. Sometimes she is alone with her dog, 
and sometimes with a female friend; but the forelock of her pony is 
always surmounted by a few flowers, or a cluster of green leaves, for 
she has a queer notion of ransacking the most secluded corners of the 
field and wood. Only a week ago (the very day we caught that two- 
pound trout), while standing upon a hill, we saw her trying to leap a 
narrow but deep brook, and she did not give up trying until she had 
accomplished the deed. We thought that if her pony had been gifted 
with the power of speech, he would have exclaimed, " Well done, you 
courageous girl, you possess a wonderful deal of spunk !'' 

Lilly left school about two years ago, because her father chose to 
superintend her education himself. She is a good scholar in every- 
thing requisite for a lady. You could hardly puzzle her with questions 
in history, geography, or mathematics. Her modesty and simplicity 
of character are so great that you would be surprised at the extent of 
her book-information and practical knowledge. She has a wonderful 
talent for making herself agreeable under all circumstances. If she 
meets a beggar woman in the street, she will talk, familiarly with her 
about her sorrows, instructing her to bear up under every trial. She 
is the universal favorite of the whole village. All who know her, the 
poor and the rich, from the child of three years to the hoary head, all 
love her with the affection felt toward a sister or daughter. She smiles 
with those who smile, and weeps with those who weep. Servant-girls 
consult with her about purchasing a new dress, and little children in- 
vite her to participate with them in their pastimes. 



EECORDS OF A TOURIST. 79 

Lilly Larnard is a lover of poetry. Yes, whether she sees it in the 
primrose and the evening cloud ; or hears it in the laughing rivulet 
and the song of birds ; or reads it in the pages of Spenser, Milton, 
Shakspeare, Wordsworth, or Coleridge. And she is a writer ^ too, of 
sweet and soothing poetry, just such as should always emanate from 
the pure-hearted. To give the reader an idea of her poetic powers, we 
will here quote her last effort, which was written with a pencil on a 
fly-leaf of Dana's Poems while walking on the sea-shore; for, be it 
known that the village of her birth is within sound of the never-ceas- 
ing roar of the Atlantic. The title of it is — 

A SEA-SHORE ECHO. 

^^ Alone ! and on the smooth, hard, sandy shore of the boundless 
sea ! A lovelier morning never dawned upon the world of waters. ! 
how balmy, how clear, how soul-subduing, how invigorating is the air ! 
Calmness sits throned upon the unmoving clouds, whose colors are like 
the sky, only of a brighter hue. One of them, more ambitious than 
its fellows, is swimming onward, a wanderer, and companionless. 
that I could rest upon its ^unrolling skirts,' and take an aerial pilgrim- 
age around the globe — now looking down upon its humming cities, 
and fruitful and cultivated plains; and again, upon some unpeopled 
wilderness or ocean solitude ! But alas ! the peerless beauty of that 
light cloud will be extinguished, when the sun shall have withdrawn 
his influence, and, if not entirely dispersed, will take another shape, 
and make its home in darkness. And so have I seen a man, when 
wandering from the heavenly sunshine of religion, passing from his 
cradle to the grave. 

" As I gaze upward into yon blue dome, the anxieties of life are all 
forgotten, and my heart throbs with a quicker pulse, and beats with 
an increasing thrill of joy. How holy and serene those azure depths 
of air ! Strange, that aught so beautiful should canopy a world of 
tears, decay, and death ! Yonder sky is the everlasting home of 
countless worlds; the vast ethereal chamber, where are displayed the 
wonders of the thunder, and lightning, and rainbow ; and a mirror, too, 
reflecting the glorious majesty, the wisdom and power of the Omni- 
potent. Lo ! across my vision there is floating another cloud, whiter 



80 KECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

than the driven snow ! Rearward; there trails along another, and 
still another, until pile on pile they reach upward to the very zenith • 
and oh, how gorgeous the scenes which my fancy conjures up, delighted 
with their changing loveliness ! One moment, I behold a group of 
angels reclining at ease upon the summit of a pearly battlement; and 
now, summoned by a celestial strain of melody, they spread their pin- 
ions for a higher flight — a flight into the diamond portals of the New 
Jerusalem. Again, a river of pure white foam rolls swift but noiseless 
through unpeopled valleys, hemmed in by airy mountains of wondrous 
height, until its waters empty into a tranquil sea, boundless and 
^ beautiful exceedingly ;' and on this, a myriad of swanlike barges are 
gliding to and fro, without a breeze, while the voyagers are striking 
their golden harps, and singing hymns of sweetest strain and holiest 
import, whose echoes die away on the shadowy waves. There ! all 
these, like the dreams of youth, are melting into nothingness; and 
my eyes now rest only upon the dark blue ocean. 

" The green waves of the Atlantic, with their undulating swell, come 
rolling in upon the sand, making a plaintive music, sweeter than the 
blended harmonies of a thousand instruments. Would that I might 
leap in and wrestle with them, and, when overcome by fatigue, lay my 
heated brow upon those cool watery pillows, rocked to sleep as in a 
cradle, while my lullaby would be the moaning of the sea. The mists 
of morning are all dispelled, and the glorious sunshine, emblem of 
God's love, is bathing with eff"ulgent light the ocean before me, and 
behind me the mountains and valleys of my own loved country. 
Look ! how the white caps chase each other along the watery plain, 
like the milk-white steeds, striving in their freedom to outstrip the 
breeze. "Whence comes this breeze, and whither is it going ? Three 
days ago, at set of sun, it spread its wing near to a sandy desert of 
Africa, where a caravan of camels, and horses, and men, had halted 
for the night; and at the dawning of to-morrow, it will be sporting 
with the forest-trees of the western wilderness ! 

" Far as the eye can reach, the sea is ' sprinkled o'er with ships,' 
their white sails gleaming in the sunlight. One of them has just 
returned from India, another from the Pacific, and another from the 
Arctic Sea. Years have elapsed since they departed hence. They 



EECORDS OF A TOURIST. 81 

have been exposed to a tlioiisand dangers ; but tlie great God^ wlio 
holds the ocean in the hollow of his hand; has conducted them back 
to the.ir desired homes. How many silent prayers of thanksgiving, 
and what a thrilling and joyous shout, will echo to the shore, as those 
storm-beaten mariners drop anchor in their native waters ! Yonder, 
too, are other ships, bound to the remotest corners of the earth. They 
seem to rejoice in their beauty and speed, and proud is their bearing; 
but will they ever return ? Alas I the shadowy future alone can answer. 
Farewell, a long farewell, ye snowy daughters of the ocean.^^ 

But to return. Lilly Larnard is fond of music, too, and plays 
delightfully on the harp. Her voice is sweeter than the fall of waters 
when heard at a distance in the stillness of the twilight hour. She 
knows nothing of fashion ; and if she did, would consider it beneath 
her dignity to be incommoded or swayed by it. Instead of decking 
herself with gew-gaws for a brilliant appearance in the gay saloon, 
within sound of the rude jest and foolish flattery, she strives by watch- 
fulness and care to purify her daily conduct ; for hers is not less prone 
to sin than all other human hearts. "Necklaces does she sometimes 
wear, in her playful glee, made of the purple fruit that feeds the small 
birds in the moors, and beautiful is the gentle stain then visible over 
the blue veins of her swan-like bosom.^^ Beautiful as she is, a feelincj 
of vanity never yet entered the heart of the rector's daughter. She 
feels too deeply the truth, that personal charms, which are the only 
pride of weak-minded persons, time will eventually transform into 
wrinkled homeliness ; and that an affectionate heart and good under- 
standing will endure, and become more perfect, until the pilgrimage 
of life is ended. 

Never has Lilly Larnard been more than thirty miles away from 
the village of her birth. She has read of cities, and the busy multi- 
tudes that throng them ; of armies and navies ; of politics and war ; 
but all these things to her are but as the visions of a dream. She is 
ignorant of the real condition and character of the great world, for 
naught but the echo of its din has ever fallen upon her ear. She 
listens with wonder to the deeds of which we sometimes tell her we 
have been an unwilling witness in the wilderness of men. She thinks 



82 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

it strange, that the inhabitants of cities think so much of the present 
life, and so little of the future. Her days have been spent in inno- 
cence beneath the blue dome of the illimitable sky, inhaling the pure 
unadulterated air of the country, now sporting in the sunshine, and 
now sprinkled by a refreshing shower; while the loveliest of flowers 
and birds, and holy and tender affections, have been her hourly com- 
panions ; and her nights have passed away in pleasant dreams of that 
bright world beyond the stars. 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 83 



BASSE FISHING. 

"We delight, as all the world has long well kiiow-n, in every kind of fishing, 
from the whale to the minnow." 

CuRisTOPHEn North. 

The beautiful fish now chosen for our ^^ subject theme" is a genuine 
native American, and ranks high among the game fish of the country. 
When fully grown^ he is commonly about fifteen inches long, two 
inches in thickness, and some five inches broad, weighing perhaps five 
or six pounds. He belongs to the perch family, has a thick oval head, 
a swallow tail, sharp teeth, and small scales. In color, he is deep black 
along the back and sides, growing lighter and somewhat yellowish 
towards the belly. He has a large mouth and is a bold biter, feeds 
upon minnows and insects, is strong and active, and when in season 
possesses a fine flavor. He spawns in the spring, recovers in July, 
and is in his prime in September. 

The black basse is peculiarly a Western fish, and is not known in 
any of the rivers which connect immediately with the Atlantic Ocean. 
They are found in great abundance in the upper Mississippi and its 
tributaries, in all the great lakes excepting Superior, in the upper St. 
Lawrence, in Lake Champlain and Lake George, and nearly all the 
smaller lakes of New York. In portions of the last-named State they 
are called the Oswego basse, in the southwest the black perch, and in 
the northwest, where they are most abundant, the black basse. In 
nearly all the waters where they abound has it been our good fortune 
to angle for the fish, and his very name is associated with much of the 
most beautiful scenery in the land. Our own experience, however, 
in basse fishing is chiefly identified with Lake George, Lake Erie, Lake 
Michigan, and the upper Mississippi, and to these waters alone is it 
our purpose to devote a few paragraphs. 

And, first, as to the beautiful '' Horicon'' of the North. Embo- 



84 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

somed as it is among the wildest of mountains, and rivaling, as do its 
waterS; the blue of heaven, it is indeed all that could be desired, and 
in every particular worthy of its fame. Although this lake is distin- 
guished for the number and variety of its trout, I am inclined to be- 
lieve that the black basse found here afford the angler the greatest 
amount of sport. They are taken during the entire summer, and by 
almost as great a variety of methods as there are anglers ; trolling 
with a minnow, however, and fishing with a gaudy fly from the nume- 
rous islands in the lake, are unquestionably the two most successful 
methods. As before intimated, the basse is a very active fish, and, 
excepting the salmon, we know of none that perform, when hooked, 
such desperate leaps out of the water. They commonly frequent the 
immediate vicinity of the shores, especially those that are rocky, and 
are seldom taken where the water is more than twenty feet deep. 
They commonly lie close to the bottom, rise to the minnow or fly quite 
as quickly as the trout, and are not as easily frightened by the human 
form. 

The late William Caldwell, who owned an extensive estate at the 
southern extremity of Lake Greorge, was the gentleman who first 
introduced us to the basse of said lake, and we shall ever remember 
him as one of the most accomplished and gentlemanly anglers we have 
ever known. He was partial to the trolling method of fishing, how- 
ever, and the manner in which he performed a piscatorial expedition 
was somewhat unique and romantic. His right hand man on all occa- 
sions was a worthy mountaineer, who lived in the vicinity of his man- 
sion, and whose principal business was to take care of the angler's 
boat, and row him over the lake. For many years did this agreeable 
connection exist between Mr. Caldwell and his boatman, and, when 
their fishing days were over, was happily terminated by the deeding 
of a handsome farm to the latter by his munificent employer. But 
we intended to describe one of Mr. Caldwell's excursions. 

It is a July morning, and our venerable angler, with his boatman, 
has embarked in his feathery skiff. The lake is thirty-three miles 
long, and it is his intention to perform its entire circuit, thereby voy- 
aging at least seventy miles. He purposes to be absent about a week, 
and, having no less than half a dozen places on the lake shore where 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 85 

he can find a night's lodging, he is in no danger of being compelled 
to camp out. His little vessel is abundantly supplied with fishing 
tackle, as well as the substantials of life, and some of its liquid lux- 
uries. He and Care have parted company, and his heart is now 
wholly open to the influences of nature, and therefore buoyant as the 
boat which bears him over the translucent waters. The first day his 
luck is bad, and he tarries at a certain point for the purpose of witness- 
ing the concluding scene of a deer hunt, and hearing the successful 
hunter expatiate upon his exploits and the quality of his hounds. On 
the second day the wind is from the south, and he secures no less than 
twenty of the finest basse in the lake. On the third day he also has 
good luck, but is greatly annoyed by thunder showers, and must con- 
tent himself with one of the late magazines which he has brought 
along for such emergencies. The fifth and sixth days he has some 
good fishing, and spends them at Grarfield's Landing (for the reader 
must know that there is a tiny steamboat on Lake George), where he 
has an opportunity of meeting a brotherhood of anglers, who are bait- 
ing for the salmon trout; and the seventh day he probably spends 
quietly at Lyman's Tavern, in the companionship of an intelligent 
landscape painter (spending the summer there), arriving at home on 
the following morning. 

As to our own experience in regard to basse fishing in Lake George, 
we remember one incident in particular which illustrates an interesting 
truth in natural history. We were on a trouting expedition, and hap- 
pened to reach the lake early in June, before the basse were in season, 
and we were stopping with our friend Mr. Lyman, of Lyman's Point. 
The idea having occurred to us of spearing a few fish by torchlight, 
we secured the services of an experienced fisherman, and with a boat 
well supplied with fat pine, we launched ourselves on the quiet waters 
of the lake about an hour after sundown. Basse were very abundant, 
and we succeeded in killing some half dozen of a large size. We 
found them exceedingly tame, and noticed, when we approached, that 
they were invariably alone, occupying the centre of a circular and 
sandy place among the rocks and stones. We inquired the cause of 
this, and were told that the basse were casting their spawn, and that 
the circular places w^ere the beds where the young were protected. On 
8 



86 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

hearing this our conscience was somewhat troubled for what we had 
been doing, but we resolved to take one more fish and then go home. 
"We now came to a large bed, around the edge of which we discovered 
a number of very small fish, and over the centre of the bed a very 
large and handsome basse was hovering. We darted our spear, and 
only wounded the poor fish. Our companion then told us that if we 
would go away for fifteen minutes, and then return to the same spot, 
we should have another chance at the same fish. We did so, and the 
prediction was realized. We threw the spear again, and again missed 
our game, though we succeeded in nearly cutting the fish in two pieces. 
"You will have the creature yet; let us go away again," said my com- 
l^anion. We did so, and lo ! to our utter astonishment, we again saw 
the fish, all mutilated and torn, still hovering over its tender ofispring ! 
To relieve it of its pain we darted the spear once more, and the basse 
lay in our boat quite dead ; and we returned to our lodgings on that 
night a decidedly unhappy man. We felt, with the ancient mariner^ 
that we ^'had done a hellish deed," and most bitterly did we repent 
our folly. Ever since that time have we felt a desire to atone for our 
wickedness, and we trust that the shade of Izaak Walton will receive 
our humble confession as an atonement. The basse that we took on 
the night in question, owing to their being out of season, were not fit 
to eat, and we had not even the plea of palatable food to ofl"er. The 
maternal affection of that black basse for its helpless ofispring, which 
it protected even unto death, has ever seemed to us in strict keeping 
with the loveliness and holiness of universal nature. 

And now with regard to Lake Erie. We know not of a single pro- 
minent river emptying into this lake in which the black basse is not 
found in considerable numbers. The sport which they yield to the 
disciples of Walton at the eastern extremity of the lake has been de- 
scribed by Greorge W. Clinton, Esq., of Bufi'alo, in a series of pisca- 
torial letters published in the journals of that city; and, as we would 
not interfere with him while throwing the fly in his company on the 
same stream, neither will we trespass upon that literary ground which 
he has so handsomely made his own, When, however, we hear the 
green waves of Lake Erie washing its western shores, we feel that we 
have a right to be heard, for in that region, when it was for the most 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 87 

a lonely wildernesSj did we first behold the light of this beautiful 
world. With the windings of the Sandusky, the Maumee, the Hu- 
ron, and the Detroit rivers we are quite familiar, and we know that 
they all yield an abundance of black basse; but with the river Raisin 
we are as well acquainted as a child could be with its mother's bosom. 
Upon this stream was the home of our boyhood, and at the bare men- 
tion of its name unnumbered recollections flit across the mind, which 
to our hearts are inexpressibly dear. 

Even when a mere boy we esteemed the black basse as a peer among 
his fellows, and never can we forget our first prize. We had seated our- 
self at the foot of an old sycamore, directly on the margin of the 
river Raisin, and among its serpent-like roots we were fishing for a 
number of tiny rock basse that we had chanced to discover there. We 
baited with a worm, and while doing our utmost to capture a two-ounce 
fish, we were suddenly frightened by the appearance of a black basse, 
which took our hook and was soon dangling in the top of a neighbor- 
ing bush. Our delight at this unexpected exploit was unbounded, 
and, after bothering our friends with an account of it until the night 
was far spent, we retired to bed, and in our dreams caught the same 
poor fish over and over again until morning. From that day to this, 
rivers and fish have haunted us like a passion. 

Like the trout, the black basse seems to be partial to the more ro- 
mantic and poetical places in the rivers which they frequent. On the 
river Raisin, for example, we used to enjoy the rarest of sport at an 
old and partly dilapidated mill-dam, which was covered with moss, 
and at the foot of which were some of the nicest " deep holes" ima- 
ginable. Wherever the timbers of the dam formed a *' loop-hole of 
retreat,'^ there we were always sure of finding a basse. And we also 
remember an old mill, in whose shadowy recesses, far down among- the 
foundation timbers, the basse delighted to congregate, and where we 
were wont to spend many of our Saturday afternoons ; but our favorite 
expeditions were those which occupied entire days, and led us along the 
banks of the Raisin, in the vicinity of its mouth, and far beyond the 
hearing of the mill-wheel or the clink of the blacksmith's anvil. At 
such times the discovery of old sunken logs was all that we cared for, 
for we knew that the basse delighted to spend the noontide hours in 



88 EECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

their shadow. And when we could borrow a canoe^ and obtain a foot- 
hold on the extreme point of a wooded island, so as to angle in the 
deep and dark holes, we seldom failed in realizing all the enjoyment 
that we anticipated. And, if we chanced to come across a party of 
fishermen drawing the seine, we were sure to forget our promise to 
our parents to return home before sundown, and, far too often for a 
good boy, did we remain with them even until the moon had taken 
her station in the sky. To count the fish thus captured, and to hear 
the strange adventures and exploits talked over by these fishermen, 
was indeed a delightful species of vagabondizing; and we usually 
avoided a very severe scolding by returning home ^^ with one of the 
largest basse ever caught in the river,'^ which we may have taken with 
the hook or purchased of the fishermen. But we are talking of the 
'^ times of the days of old," and as we remember that the glories of 
the Kiver Raisin, in regard to its scenery and its fish, are for ever de- 
parted, we hasten to other waters. 

In fancy we have now crossed the peninsula of Michigan, or rather 
compassed it by means of the splendid steamers which navigate the 
waters of Huron and Michigan, and we are now on the banks of the 
river St. Joseph. This is a small river, and unquestionably one of 
the most beautiful in the western world. It runs thi'ough an exceed- 
ingly fertile country, abounds in luxuriant islands, is invariably as 
clear as crystal, and in its course winding to an uncommon degree. 
It is navigable for small steamboats to the village of Niles, fifty miles 
from its mouth, and for batteaux somewhere about fifty miles further, 
towards its source. Early in the spring it abounds in the more com- 
mon varieties of fresh-water fish, but throughout the summer and au- 
tumn it yields the black basse in the greatest abundance. 

Our piscatorial experience upon the St. Joseph has not been very 
extensive, but we deem it worthy of a passing notice. We were on 
our way to the ^^ Far West,'' and had been waylaid in the beautiful 
village of Niles by one of the fevers of the country. The phy- 
sician who attended us was a genuine angler, and we believe that our 
speedy recovery was owing almost entirely to the capital fish stories 
with which he regaled us during that uncomfortable period. Be that 
as it may, one thing we very clearly remember, which is this : that we 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 89 

eujoyed some of the most remarkable basse fishing in his company that 
we have ever experienced. It was in September, and we commenced 
fishing at three o'clock in the afternoon. We baited with live min- 
nows, fished with hand lines, and from a boat which was firmly an- 
chored at a bend of the river, and just above a long and very deep 
hole, two miles above the village of Niles. Our lines were upwards 
of a hundred feet long, and, as the current was very rapid, the pull- 
ing in of our minnows was performed with very little trouble. The 
sun was shining brightly, and the only sounds which floated in the air 
were the singing of birds, the rustling of the forest leaves, and the 
gentle murmuring of the waters as they glided swiftly along the luxu- 
riant banks of the stream. We fished a .little more than two hours, 
but in that time we caught no less than ninety-two basse, a dozen of 
which weighed over five pounds, and the great majority not less than 
two pounds. Such remarkable luck had never been heard of before 
in that vicinity, and of course for several days thereafter the river was 
covered with boats ; but, strange to say, nearly all the anglers returned 
home disappointed. On a subsequent occasion, the doctor and his pa- 
tient made another trial at their favorite spot, but succeeded in taking 
only a single fish, from which circumstance we came to the conclusion 
that we had actually cleared that portion of the river of its fishy inha- 
bitants. 

Before quitting the St. Joseph, we ought to state that its beautiful 
tributaries, the Pipe Stone and the Paw-Paw, afford a superior quality 
of basse, and that no pleasanter fishing-ground can anywhere be found 
than at the mouth of the parent river itself. With regard to the 
other principal rivers of western Michigan, we can only say that the 
Kalamazoo and the Grand River are not one whit behind the St. 
Joseph in any of those charms which win the affections of the 
angler and the lover of nature. 

We come now to speak of the Upper Mississippi, in whose translucent 
waters, as before stated, the black basse is found in '^ numbers number- 
less." Not only do they abound in the river itself and its noble tribu- 
taries, but also in the lakes of the entire region. The only people who 
angle for them, however, are the travelers who occasionally penetrate 
into this beautiful wilderness of the Northwest. Generally speaking, 

8* 



90 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

the basse, as well as all other kinds of fish, are taken hy the Indians 
with a wooden spear, and more to satisfy hunger than to enjoy the 
sport. The angler who would cast a fly above Fort Snelling must ex- 
pect to spend his nights in an Indian lodge instead of a white-washed 
cottage, to repose upon a bear-skin instead of a bed (such as Walton 
loved) which "smells of lavender,'^ and to hear the howl of the wolf 
instead of a " milk-maid's song/' 

As our piscatorial recollections of the section of country just named 
are not particularly interesting, and as it is attracting much attention 
at the present time (1849), under the new name of Mincsota, or Turhid 
Water J we shall conclude our essay with the following general description. 

According to the final provisions of the act of Congress which has 
lately transferred this extensive wilderness into a Territory of the Uni- 
ted States, it is bounded on the north by the British possessions, on 
the east by Lake Superior and the State of Wisconsin, on the south 
by the State of Iowa, and on the west by the Missouri river and the 
extensive possessions of the Indians. The surface of the country is 
generally level, and it has been estimated that at least two-thirds of its 
area consists of prairie land, the remainder being forest. Much of the 
soil is fertile, and easy of cultivation. It is watered by no less than 
six of the most suberb rivers on the face of the earth — the Mississippi 
and Missouri, Eiver Au Jacques, the St. Peters, or Minesota Eiver, 
the Red River, emptying into Hudson's Bay, and the St. Louis, empty- 
ing into Lake Superior. Were it not for the Falls of St. Mary (a 
canal having been built around those of Niagara), a vessel sailing from 
the city of New York, by the St. Lawrence and the great lakes, might 
deposit her merchandise almost within its very heart ; while it is a 
well-known fact that a New Orleans steamer may, by the Mississippi 
and Missouri rivers, transport the products of the South to its more 
remote extremities. The two facts, that Minesota is laved by the 
waters of the largest lake in the world, and that in its very centre are 
located at least a thousand lesser lakes, which constitute the fountain- 
head of the Father of Waters, are in themselves sufficient to give it a 
world-wide reputation. In addition to all this, the climate of this ter- 
ritory is all that could be desired. The winters are indeed somewhat 
long and cold, but they are regular ', and, as to the summers, we have 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 91 

never witnessed any that were to us so bracing and delightful. The 
dreaded ague is a stranger in this region, and the very night-airs seem 
to increase the strength of the voyagers and Indian traders, who, for 
the most part, are the only civilized inhabitants of the domain. Game 
is found in the greatest abundance, from the buffalo to the deer and 
the grouse, and there is no region in the world where can be found 
a greater variety of fresh-water fish. 

The Indian population is by far the most extensive now existing 
within its limits, but the nations are only two in number, the Chip- 
peways and the Sioux. The wrongs which these unfortunate children 
of the wilderness have for many years past endured from the more un- 
principled traders are among the blackest crimes of the white man, and 
it is to be most sincerely hoped that a new order of things will now be 
brought about which may in some slight degree atone for those wrongs. 
To us, who have been a devoted lover of the red man, even from 
childhood, the fact that the race is literally withering from the land of 
their fathers is indeed depressing and sickening. With all his faults, 
we dearly love the poor neglected and deeply-wronged Indian, and we 
verily believe that our beloved country can never prosper, as it might, 
until we have done something to atone for the unnumbered outrages 
committed against the race by our more unworthy citizens. But we 
are wandering. 

With regard to the towns or villages existing at the present time in 
Miuesota, we can offer but little. So far as we now remember, they 
consist of only three : Fond du Lac, on the St. Louis, a mere trading 
post ; St. Peters, at the mouth of the river of that name, distinguished 
as the site of Fort Snelling, as being within five or six miles of the 
Falls of St. Anthony, and at the head of steamboat navigation ; and 
the hamlet of St. Paul, which is on the west side of the Mississippi, 
only about six miles below the mouth of the St. Peter's. The fact 
that the last-named place has been selected as the seat of government 
of the new Territory renders it of some interest. It is situated on a 
bluff which rises some fifty feet above the Mississippi, and, though 
flanked by a thinly-wooded, or rather prairie country, the soil is fertile, 
and the scenery both up and down the Mississippi is exceedingly beau- 



92 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

tiful. Unlike that portion running south of the Missouri, this portion 
of the great river is invariably translucent, and for many reasons is 
interesting to an uncommon degree. Steamboats drawing only a few 
inches of water navigate this portion of the river during the whole 
summer. When we visited St. Paul (1846) the majority of its dwell- 
ings, if not all (numbering not more than half a dozen), were built of 
logs, and, though very comfortable, were not particularly showy. At 
that time, too, the only business carried on there was that of trading 
with the Indians. Our most vivid recollections of the place are asso- 
ciated with a supper that we enjoyed in the cabin of the principal 
trader. We had lost ourself in traveling by land from Lake St. 
Croix to the village, and for many hours before our arrival we had 
been in a particularly hungry mood. We entered St. Paul just as the 
sun was setting ; and it so happened that, on the very outskirts of the 
place, we chanced to kill a couple of young coons. A portion of one 
of these animals, fried in its own fat, with a dish of tea, constituted 
our supper, and a more truly satisfactory supper we have hardly ever 
enjoyed, albeit we have been quite an extensive traveler in the wilder- 
ness. If the citizens of St. Paul only welcomed their newly-appointed 
governor by giving him a coon supper, we feel confident that he was 
well pleased with the reception. 

With regard to the agricultural products, we cannot speak with 
much confidence. Wild rice, we know, grows in great abundance, and 
is the staple article of food with the Indians. For corn, the climate 
is considered rather cold ; but potatoes and the more common vegeta- 
bles grow to perfection. In many parts the maple-tree predominates, 
and a fine sugar is produced in considerable quantities. The principal 
timbers are pine and a dwarfish oak. The only Alpine region of 
Minesota is that which lies upon Lake Superior, and the beautiful 
mountains which here kiss the blue of heaven are invariably covered 
with a miscellaneous forest ; and, if half the stories we have heard are 
true, they must abound in the valuable minerals of copper and silver. 

Those of our readers who may desire further information in regard 
to the Territory of Minesota would do well to consult the following 
authorities, viz., Gen. Pike, who traveled through the region in 1806; 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 93 

Henry R. Schoolcraft's Travels, both in 1820 and 1832; Major Long, 
who visited Leech Lake in 1823 ; and M. Nicolet, whose map of the 
region is exceedingly valuable ; an occasional item of information may 
also be obtained from a little work entitled ^^ A Summer in the "Wil- 
derness/' published in 1846. 



94 KECORDS OF A TOURIST. 



A VIRGINIA BARBECUE. 

The word harhecue is said to be derived from a combination of two 
French words, signifying from the head to the tail, or rather, ^^ accord- 
ing to the moderns/' the whole fgiire, or the whole hog. By some, this 
species of entertainment is thought to have originated in the West 
India Islands. However this may be, it is quite certain that it was 
first introduced into this country by the early settlers of Virginia; and 
though well known throughout all the Southern States, it is commonly 
looked upon as a "pleasant invention" of the Old Dominion. The 
idea was evidently conceived by a rural population, and in a district 
where villages and the ordinary public buildings of the present time 
were few and far between. For purposes of business or pleasure, the 
people found it necessary, or advisable, to meet together in masses, at 
stated periods ; and as these meetings were made a kind of rural festi- 
val, and as the animals served up on such occasions were commonly 
roasted entire, it was not unnatural that the feast should eventually 
have become known as a barbecue. 

Of the genus barbecue, as it exists at the present time, we believe 
there are only two varieties known to the people of Virginia, and these 
may be denominated as social and political. The social barbecue is 
sometimes given at the expense of a single individual, but more com- 
monly by a party of gentleman, who desire to gratify their friends 
and neighbors by a social entertainment. At times, the ceremony of 
issuing written invitations is attended to ; but, generally speaking, it is 
understood that all the yeomanry of the immediate neighborhood, 
with their wives and children, will be heartily welcomed, and a spirit 
of perfect equality invariably prevails. The spot ordinarily selected 
for the meeting is an oaken grove in some pleasant vale, and the first 
movement is to dispatch to the selected place a crowd of faithful ne- 
groes, for the purpose of making all the necessary arrangements. If 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 95 

the barbecue is given at the expense of half a dozen gentlemen, you 
may safely calculate that at least thirty servants will be employed in 
bringing together the good things. Those belonging to one of the en- 
tertainers will probably make their appearance on the ground with a 
wagon load of fine young pigs : others will bring two or three lambs, 
others some fine old whisky and a supply of wine, others the neces- 
sary table-cloths, plates, knives, and forks, others an abundance of 
bread, and others will make their appearance in the capacity of mu- 
sicians. When the necessaries are thus collected, the servants all join 
hands and proceed with their important duties. They first dig a pit, 
four feet wide, two or three deep, and as long as they require, into 
which they throw a quantity of wood, for the purpose of obtaining 
therefrom a bed of burning coals. This done, the more expert kitchen 
negroes proceed to roast (by laying them upon sticks across the fires) 
the various animals prepared for the occasion. In the mean time, all 
the other arrangements are progressing, such as spreading the white 
cloths upon the temporary board tables, and clearing a place for 
dancing. The guests begin to assemble about ten o'clock, and by noon 
there is hardly a tree within hailing distance of the centre of attraction 
to which a horse is not fastened. The assembly is quite large ; and 
white dresses and scarlet shawls are as numerous as the summer flowers 
upon the neighboring hills. Old men are here with their wives and 
daughters, in whose veins floweth the best of aristocratic blood ; young 
husbands with their wives; unmarried gentlemen with a bevy of 
laughing girls under their charge ; and children of every age, from 
the wild and boisterous boy to little girls just old enough to totter after 
a butterfly. One, or perhaps two hours, are then spent by the multi- 
tude in playing rural games, in social converse, in telling stories, or in 
discussing the news of the day. Finally, the pigs and lambs have all 
been roasted, and the feast is ready ; whereupon there followeth as 
busy and satisfactory a scene as can well be imagined. After it is 
ended, the negroes come into rightful possession of all the tables and 
the abundance of good things left over; and, having quietly invited a 
number of their friends, with their families, they proceed to enjoy 
their portion of the entertainment, which is generally concluded by a 
regular negro frolic^ with banjo and fiddle, in a neighboring grove. 



96 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

In due time, after the more substantial feature of the barbecue has 
been enjoyed, the musicians are summoned to their allotted places, and 
the entire party of ladies and gentlemen proceed to trip the light fan- 
tastic toe. The exercise continues for whole hours, and white-haired 
men and little girls are seen wending their way through the intricate 
mazes of the country dance and the Virginia reel. As the sun nears 
the horizon, the more advanced members of the party quietly take their 
departure, leaving a cloud of dust behind them on the road. By the 
time the last day-flower has closed its petal, the young men and maidens 
have entire possession of the barbecue ground ; and having wound up 
the last reel by the light of the newly risen moon, they dismiss the 
musicians, gather together their hats and shawls, and with many a song 
and jest return to their several homes. 

With regard to the political barbecue, we have to remark that it 
differs from the one already described only in the following particulars : 
It is generally gotten up by the leaders of one of the political parties, 
and speeches take the place of dancing, although ladies in consider- 
able numbers are invariably in attendance. Previous to the appointed 
day for the political barbecue, a placard is nailed to all the barn doors 
and blacksmith shops in the district or county where it occurs, to the 
effect that " several distinguished speakers will be present on the occa- 
sion,'^ and that the people of all parties are invited to be present. If 
the entertainers on this occasion are of the Whig party, the first 
speech, as a matter of course, is delivered by a Whig orator, and it is 
no uncommon sight to see this gentleman standing literally on the stump. 
After he has taken his seat, he is usually followed by a brother orator 
of the Democratic party ; and so, alternately, are the principles of the 
prevailing parties fully discussed. Generally speaking, the greatest 
decorum exists, not only among the speakers but among the listeners ; 
and if severe remarks are dropped in the heat of debate, they are 
not commonly considered of sufiicient consequence to create a breach 
between personal friends. There are times, however, when even the 
political barbecue is concluded by a dance ; but as the crowd is then 
particularly miscellaneous, the hilarity which usually prevails is apt to 
be a little too boisterous. When given in the autumn, new cider usually 
takes the place of more stimulating drinks (so far as the multitude 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 97 

are concerned, at any rate), and when this is the case, it is very seldom 
that any improprieties occur. But, generally speaking, a genuine Vir- 
ginia barbecue, whether of a political or social character, is a rural en- 
tertainment which deserves far more praise than censure, and we know 
of none which affords the stranger a better opportunitiy of studying 
the character of the yeomanry of the Southern States. 



98 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 



DEATH IN THE WILDERNESS. 

Midway between the St. Louis River and Sandy Lake, in the Ter- 
ritory of Minesota, is to be found one of the largest and most for- 
bidding of tamarack swamps. From time immemorial it has been a 
thing of dread, not only to the Indians, but also to the traders and 
voyagers, for directly across its centre runs the portage train leading 
from the waters of Lake Superior to those of the Upper Mississippi. 
For a goodly portion of the year it is blocked up with snow, and during 
the summer is usually so far covered with water as only occasionally 
to afford a little island of coarse vegetation. It is so desolate a place 
as to be uninhabited even by wild animals, and hence the pleasures of 
traveling over it are far from being manifold. In fact, the only way 
in which it can be overcome during the vernal months is by employing 
a rude causeway of logs for the more dangerous places ; and as it hap- 
pens to be directly on the route of a portage over which canoes and 
packs of furs are annually transported to a considerable extent, we 
cannot wonder that it should frequently be the scene of mishaps 
and accidents. Evidences to prove this, we distinctly remember to 
have seen, when once crossing the swamp, for all along the trail were 
the skeletons of canoes, which had been abandoned by their owners, 
together with broken paddles and remnants of camp furniture. But 
the most interesting object that we witnessed in this remote corner of 
the wilderness was a rude wooden cross, surmounting a solitary grave. 
And connected with this grave is the following story, obtained from 
one who assisted at the burial. 

It was a summer da}'-, and many years ago, when a stranger made 
his appearance at the Sault St. Marie. He reported himself as com- 
ing from Montreal and anxious to obtain a canoe passage to the head 
waters of the Mississippi. He was a Frenchman, of elegant address, 
and in easy circumstances, so far as one could judge from his st(?ck of 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 99 

traveling comforts. His name and business; however, were alike un- 
known, and hence a mystery attended his every word and movement. 
Having purchased a new canoe and a comfortable tent, he secured the 
services of four stalwart Chippeways and started upon his western pil- 
grimage. He sailed along the southern shore of Lake Superior, and 
as its unique features developed themselves to his view one after ano- 
ther, he frequently manifested the gratijQcation he experienced in the 
most enthusiastic manner, thereby increasing the mystery which sur- 
rounded him. Wholly unacquainted with the language spoken by his 
companions, he could only converse with them by signs ; but though 
they could not relate to him the traditions associated with the sand- 
stone cliffs, mountains, and beautiful islands which they witnessed, 
they did everything in their power to make him comfortable. They 
entered his tent and built his watch-fire at night, supplied him with 
game and fish, and during the long pleasant days, when skimming 
over the blue waters, entertained him with their romantic but uncouth 
songs. In due time, they reached the superb and most picturesque St. 
Louis River, surmounted by means of many portages its waterfalls, en- 
tered and ascended one of its tributaries, and finally drew up their 
canoe at the eastern extremity of the portage leading over the tama- 
rack swamp. 

The spot where the voyagers landed was distinguished for its beaut}^, 
and as they arrived there in the afternoon, they concluded that a bet- 
ter place could not be found to spend the night. The tent of the 
stranger was therefore erected, and while the Indians busied them- 
selves in preparing the evening meal, the former amused himself by 
exploring the immediate vicinity of the encampment. He wandered 
into a neighboring swamp for the purpose of obtaining a few roots of 
the siceet flag of which he was particularly fond, and on his return to 
the tent ate an unreasonable quantity of what he had collected. On 
that night he was taken sick, and while endeavoring to account for 
heart-burning and severe pains that he experienced, he pulled out of 
his pocket a specimen of the root he had eaten and handed it to the 
Indians. They were surprised at this movement, but on examining 
the root they found it to be a deadly poison, whereupon they managed 
to inform the stranger that he had made a great mistake, and would 



100 RECOEDS OF A TOURIST. 

probably lose his life. This intelligence was of course received with 
amazement and horror, and the unhappy man spent a most agonizing 
night. At daybreak he was a little better, and insisted upon immedi- 
ately continuing his journey. The voyagers obeyed, and packing up 
their plunder, started across the portage in single file. The excite- 
ment which filled the mind of the stranger seemed to give new energy 
to his sinews, and he traveled for about an hour with great rapidity ; 
but by the time he reached the centre of the tamarack swamp his 
strength failed him, and he was compelled to call a halt. Upon one 
of the green islands, already mentioned the Indians erected his tent, 
and, with all the blankets and robes belonging to the company, made 
him as comfortable as possible. The hours of the day were nearly 
numbered; the stranger had endured the severest agony, and he knew 
that he was about to die ! He divested himself of his clothes, and 
with all his papers and other personal property, motioned that they 
should be placed in a heap a few paces from the door of his tent. 
His request was obeyed. He then handed them all the money he 
had, and dispatched all his attendants upon imaginary errands into the 
neighboring woods, and when they returned they found the heap of 
clothes and other property changed into heaps of ashes. They supposed 
the sick man had lost his reason, and therefore did not deem his con- 
duct inexplicable. They only increased their kind attentions, for they 
felt that the stream of life was almost dry. Again did the stranger sum- 
mon the Indians to his side, and pulling from his breast a small silver 
crucifix, motioned to them that they should plant upon his grave a 
similar memento ; and hiding it again in the folds of his shirt, cast a 
lingering and agonizing look upon the setting sun, and in this manner 
breathed his last. 

By the light of the moon did the Indians dig a grave on the spot 
where the stranger died, into which they deposited his remains, with 
the crucifix upon his breast. At the head of the grave, they planted 
a rude cross made of the knotty tamarack wood, and after a night of 
troubled repose, started upon their return to the Sault St. Marie, 
where they finally recounted the catastrophe of their pilgrimage. And 
such is the story that we heard of the lonely cross on the northern 
wilderness surmounting the remains of the nameless exile. 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 101 



ROCK FISHING. 

Of recreations, there is none 
So fine as fishing is alone ; 
All other pastimes do no less 
Than mind and body both possess: 
My hands alone my work can do, 
So I can fish and study too. 

ISAAK WaLTOX. 

THE STRIPED BASSE, OR ROCK-FISH. 

We consider the rock-fish, striped basse, one of the finest game 
fish to be found in American waters. From all that we can learn, 
it is peculiar to this country, and to particular sections, not being found 
farther north than Maine, nor farther south than the Carolinas, where 
it is known as the Rock-Fish. It varies in weight from six ounces to 
one hundred pounds ; and though a native of the ocean, it spends a 
portion of every year in the fresh water rivers — yet it seems to be par- 
tial to the mouths of our larger estuaries. Our naturalists have pro- 
nounced it a member of the perch family, and doubtless with scientific 
propriety; but we have seen a basse that would outweigh at least four 
score of the largest perch found in the country. The rock is a thick- 
set and solid fish, having a strong bony mouth, and sharp teeth. In 
color, it varies from a deep green on the back to a rich silvery hue on 
the belly, and its scales are large and of a metallic lustre. But the 
distinguishing feature of this fish consists in the striped appearance of 
its body. Running from the head nearly to the tail, there are no less 
than eight regularly marked lines, which in the healthy fish are of a 
deep black. Its eyes are white, head rather long, and the under jaw 
protrudes beyond the upper one, somewhat after the manner of the 
pike. The strength of the basse is equal to that of the salmon, but 
in activity it is undoubtedly inferior. As an article of food, it is 

9* 



102 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

highly valued, and in all the Atlantic cities invariably commands a 
good price. 

The spawning time of this fish we have not positively ascertained, 
though we believe it to be in the spring or early summer. The New 
York markets are supplied with them throughout the year, but it is 
unquestionably true that they are in their prime in the autumn. The 
smaller individuals frequent the eddies of our rivers, while those of a 
larger growth seem to have a fancy for the reefs along the coast. On 
the approach of winter, they do not strike for the deep water, but find 
a residence in the bays and still arms of the sea, where they remain 
until the following spring. They begin to take the hook in April, and, 
generally speaking, afi'ord the angler any quantity of sport until the 
middle of November. For the smaller fish at the North, the shrimp 
and minnow are the most successful baits ; and for the larger indivi- 
duals nothing can be better than the skin of an eel, neatly fastened 
upon a squid. The river fisherman requires a regular fit out of 
salmon tackle, while he who would capture the monsters of the ocean 
only needs a couple of stout Kirby hooks, a small sinker, a very long 
and heavy line, a gafi" hook, and a surf boat. But those who capture 
the basse for lucrative purposes resort to the following more effectual 
methods — first by using set lines, and secondly by the employment of 
gill-nets and the seine. The sport of taking a twenty-pound basse in 
a convenient river is allied to that of capturing a salmon, but as the 
former is not a very skittish fish, the difiiculties are not so great. As 
before intimated, all our Atlantic rivers, from the Penobscot to the 
Savannah, are regularly visited by the basse ; but we are inclined to 
believe that they are found in the greatest abundance and perfection 
along the shores of Connecticut, Rhode Island, Massachusetts, and 
Maine. At any rate, our own experience has been confined to this re- 
gion ; and though we remember with unfeigned pleasure our success in 
taking the larger varieties along the shores of Martha's Vineyard, at 
Montauk Point, and in the vicinity of Watch Hill, yet we are dis- 
posed to yield the palm to Block Island. This out-of-the-way spot of 
the green earth belongs to llhode Island, comprises a whole county of 
that State, and lies about forty miles from the main shore. It is nine 
miles in length, and varies in width from three to four miles. It is 



1 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 103 

quite billy, with an occasional rocky sliore, contains a number of salt 
water ponds, and is covered witli a scanty growth of trees and other 
vegetation. The male inhabitants, numbering only a few hundred 
souls, are devoted exclusively to the fishing business, and they are as 
amiable and honest at heart, as they are rude and isolated in their 
manner of life. Block Island sailors frequently find their way to the 
remotest quarters of the globe, though few who were born upon the 
island ever become entirely weaned from its ocean-girt shores. The 
Block Island fishermen build their own smacks, and as these are 
about the only things they do manufacture, they have acquired re- 
markable skill in building swift vessels, which are also distinguished 
for their strength and safety. 

The pleasantest time to kill basse at Block Island is in the month 
of October, and immediately after a severe blow, for then it is that the 
larger fish seek a sheltering place between the reefs and the shore. 
And if the angler would be certain of success, he ought to be upon 
the water before sunrise, or at the break of da}^ He must have only 
one companion, a stalwart Block Islander^ whose duty it shall be to 
steady the boat, as she dashes along upon the restless bosom of the 
ground swell, so that, with his legs carefully braced, he can throw 
his squid to a great distance, instead of being thrown himself into the 
sea. And if an occasional shark should stray into the vicinity of his 
boat, he must not sufier himself to be alarmed, for a single discharge 
from the fisherman's pistol (which he usually carries for that pur- 
pose) will be sure to frighten the monster out of his way. Gulls 
without number, large and small, of a dark gray and a pure white, 
will be sure to fly screaming above his head, and their wild chorus will 
mingle well with the monotonous war of the waves as they sweep upon 
the shore. The fatigue attendant upon this mode of fishing is un- 
commonly great ; and if the angler should happen to strike a forty- 
pounder, he will be perfectly satisfied with that single prize ; but if 
his luck should lie among the smaller varieties, he ought to be content 
with about half a dozen specimens, weighing from ten to fifteen 
pounds, which would probably be the result of the morning's expedi- 
tion. On returning to the shore, the angler will find himself in a 
most impatient mood for breakfast ; but with a view of enhancing the 



104 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

anticipated enjoyment, he should first throw aside his clothes and make 
a number of plunges in the pure white surf, which will cause him to 
feel as strong and supple as a leopard. 

We did think of commenting upon Block Island as a most fitting 
place to study the mighty ocean, for the waves which wash its shores 
come from the four quarters of the globe. It so happens, however, 
that we have just been reading a passage in an admirable little vo- 
lume entitled " The Old Creek Letters^' (the author is a man after 
our own heart), which was written at Block Island, and we are sure 
the passage in question would ^' take the wind out of any sail '' that our 
pen might produce. The passage alluded to is as follows : — 

'^ Men speak of our ^ mother the earth.' But I never could appre- 
ciate the metaphor. A hard mother is old Terra. She refuses us 
food, save when compelled by hard struggling with her, and then 
yields it reluctantly. She deceives us too often, and finally takes us, 
when worn and weary, only by the difiicult digging of a grave. 

^^ But the ocean is mother-like, singing songs to us continually, and 
telling a thousand legends to our baby ears. She casts up toys to us 
on every shore, bright shells and pebbles. (What else do we live for ?) 
True, maniac as she is, she sometimes raves madly and hurls her chil- 
dren from her arms, but see how instantly she clasps them again close, 
close to her heaving bosom, and how camly and quietly they sleep 
there — as she sings to them — nor wake again to sorrow." 

As to basse fishing in the vicinity of New York, where scientific 
anglers are quite abundant, it afi"ords us pleasure to give our readers 
the following account, written at our request by G. C Scott, Esq., 
who is quite distinguished for his love and practical knowledge of the 
gentle art. 

'^ The weather and the tide are in our favor, and the moon all right, 
for this planet, you must know, always gives the basse an excellent 
appetite and great activity. Speaking of its influence upon the appe- 
tite of fish, reminds me that those in the waters near the ocean bite 
best in the new of the moon ; whilst salt water fish which are up the 
creeks and near to fresh water, are killed in the greatest number dur- 
ing high tides, and immediately after a hard ' nor'easter,' when the 
wind has shifted to the north-west. You may prove these facts with- 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 105 

out going half a dozen miles from old Gotham, and I have always no- 
ticed that it is better fishing in ^ the Kills' and at the hedges of New- 
ark Bay, as well as at those in the lower part of the Bay of New 
Yorkj when the tide is high ; while the fishing at King's Bridge and 
the mouth of Spiting Devil is always best at extreme low tides. 

" As we are out after basse, suppose we ^ make a day of it/ and first 
try the bridge at Haerlem Dam. Being an angler yourself, you know of 
course that much depends upon bait, and we will want to use the best. 
As it is the month of August, we will purchase a few shedder crabs in 
the market ; and if we find shrimp necessary, we can procure enough 
of them at either of the fishing-grounds. During the spring, I use 
shad roes for basse bait ; but in summer, and until the first of Octo- 
ber, I prefer shedder crabs ; after that, I use shrimp and soft-shell 
clams. Some anglers prefer shrimp at all seasons, as it is well known 
that small basse are more generally taken with them; but for my 
part, give me shedder crabs enough, and I will agree to forego the use 
of all other kinds of bait for basse. Next, you may want to know 
how to rig your tackle? Where we are going to-day, you want nothing 
but a good basse rod, reel and float, with a single gut leader, to which 
you fasten a hook and attach it to the line one-third of its length from 
the hook. Use your float only when the tide runs slowly, for bottom 
fishing is the best for large fish, unless you troll for them, when you 
use a squid and fish in the Bronx with a regular trolling tackle, of 
sufficient strength to land a fish weighing one hundred and fifty 
pounds, for they are sometimes caught there of that weight, but gene- 
rally from thirty to eighty pounds. 

"Well, having arrived at King's Bridge, and as it is about ebb tide, 
we will first see what we can kill from the east bridge. I like bridge 
fishing, for it is so fine to pay out line from; and then in striking a 
fish thirty yards off", there is so much sport in playing him, and your 
being such a distance above the water, you generally fasten him at 
the first bite. Reel ofi"! reel off! you have struck him ! There! give 
him play, but feel his weight and let him contend for every inch of 
line that you give him, or he will take the whole of it without ex- 
hausting himself, and you will lose him. Keep him in slack water, 
and after playing him until you kill him, land him on the shore, for 



106 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

he is too heavy to risk your tackle in raising him to the bridge. And 
now, having fished out the last of the ebb, and the turn until the tide 
runs too fast to use a float, just step into this punt and we will anchor 
out near the edge of the current, by the first island below the mill, and 
fish in the current without the float, until the tide turns, when we 
will make for the mouth of the Spiting Devil, and fish fifty rods below 
it in the Hudson. 

^^ Now, my friend, this day's sport may be considered a fair criterion 
for these grounds. We have taken between twenty and thirty basse, 
but there is only one that weighs over five pounds, and their average 
weight will not vary much from half that. To-night we will troll in 
the Bronx, for if the sky be clear, the basse will bite sooner at a 
squid ^ by the light of the moon' than in the day time ; and there is 
very little use in stopping to try McComb's Dam, as the sport will not 
be first-rate there until the Croton Aqueduct is finished and the cofier 
dam is torn away, so that the fish may have a clear run and unob- 
structed passage between the East and Hudson rivers. It is supposed 
that this will be efiected next year, when McComb's Dam will retrieve 
its lost honors and furnish one of the best places for sport in this 
vicinity, to those who prefer bridge fishing. 

" Having given you a taste of the sport on the waters bounding this 
island on the north and east, let us to-day fiisten our punt to the lower 
hedges of New York bay, and try the difierence between ^ bottom 
fishing,' and that ^ with the float.' I will remark, in passing, that it is 
better to anchor your punt about a rod above the hedge and fish 
towards the hedge without a float, than to fasten your boat to the 
hedge, as commonly practiced, and fish with a float ; for you will notice 
that while you, in the old way, are continually reeling up and making 
casts, I am feeling for them with a moving bait toward the bottom, 
and as near the hedge as I can venture without getting fast. And 
then when I strike, I am sure to fasten them as they turn from me for 
the shelter of the hedge. I can also better play my bait without 
the danger of too much slack. You will see also that I kill the largest 
fish. 

"Let us now up anchor and away for the Kills and to the reef oppo- 
site Port Richmond. Here the fish are about as large as those at the 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 107 

hedges we just left. The tide is nearly full, and we will fish without 
the float until it is about to turn, when we will move over to the Jer- 
sey shore about fifty rods below the mouth of Newark Bay. Here, as 
the tide is just in the turn, we can fish an hour of the ebb with floats, 
when it will be best to try bottom-fishing again. Well, if you are 
tired of killing younglings varying from one to three pounds, let us put 
the punt about and prepare for a beautiful row up to the third, fourth, 
and fifth hedges in Newark Bay — trying each one — and we may 
strike some fish that will try our tackle. Change your leader for a 
heavier one and let go the anchor, for we are three rods above the 
hedge. The water is quite slack, and we will try the float until the 
tide ebbs a little more and the current becomes more rapid. There, 
sir, what think you of that ? He feels heavy — see him spin ! take 
care of your line or he'll get foul, as I cannot govern him, and it will 
be with great difficulty that I keep him out of the hedge. What a 
splendid leap ! I'll see if I can turn him — here he comes — take the 
landing net — there ! there, we have him, and I will bet the champagne 
that he weighs nearer twenty pounds than ten ! 

^^ Thus, my friend, having shown you the principal grounds and in- 
formed you of the bait and tackle to be used in killing basse in this 
vicinity, I hope that you will not be at loss for piscatorial sport when 
trying your skill in the waters of old Gotham.'^ 

It is now time that we should say something about basse or rock 
fishing in the South. The only streams frequented by this fish, of which 
we have any personal knowledge, are the Potomac, and Koanoke, 
though we have heard many wonderful stories related of the James 
River and the Great Pedee. In speaking of the Potomac we are sorely 
tempted to indite an episode upon the beautiful and magnificent sweeps 
which this river makes after it leaves the gorge of Harper's Ferry until 
it loses itself in Chesapeake Bay, and also upon its historical associa- 
tions, among which the genius of Washington reigns supreme — but 
it is our duty to forbear, for we should occupy too much time. 

Unquestionably, the finest rock-ground on the Potomac is the place 
known as the Little Falls, about four miles above Georgetown. At 
this point the river is only fifty yards wide, and as the water descends 
not more than about ten feet in running three hundred yardS; the 



108 BECOUDS OF A TOURIST. 

place might be more appropriately termed a schute than a fall. The 
banks on either side are quite abrupt and picturesque ; the bed of the 
stream is of solid rock^ and below the rapids are a number of inviting 
pools; where the water varies from forty to sixty feet in depth. The 
tides of the ocean reach no further up the Potomac than this spot, and 
though the rock-fish are caught in considerable numbers at the Great 
Falls (which are ten miles further up the river, and exceedingly 
romantic), yet they seem to be partial to the Little Falls, where they 
are frequently found in very great numbers. They follow the shad and 
the herring in the spring, but aiford an abundance of sport from the 
1st of May until the 4th of July, though they are caught in certain 
portions of the Potomac through the year, but never above the Great 
Falls. The rock of this portion of the Potomac vary in weight from 
two to eighteen or twenty pounds, and it is recorded of the anglers and 
business fishermen that they frequently kill no less than five hundred 
fish in a single day. The favorite bait in this region is the belly part 
of the common herring, as well as the shiner and smelt ; but it is fre- 
quently the case that a common yellow flannel fly will commit sad 
havoc among the striped beauties. A stout rod, a large reel, and a 
long line are important requisites to the better enjoyment of rock-fish- 
ing at this point ; but as the good standing places are few in number, 
many anglers resort to boat-fishing, which is here practiced with plea- 
sure and profit. Of the many scientific anglers who visit the Little 
Falls during the spring and summer, the more expert ones come from 
Washington ; and of one of these the story is related that he once kill- 
ed no less than eighty handsome rock-fish in a single afternoon. He 
occupied a dangerous position upon two pointed rocks in the river (one 
foot upon each rock and elevated some five feet above the water), and 
fished in a pool that was some seventy feet down the stream, while the 
fish were landed by an expert servant stationed on the shore about 
thirty feet below the spot occupied by the angler. The gentleman 
alluded to is acknowledged to be the most successful angler in this 
region, and in an occasional conversation with him, we have obtained 
a goodly number of piscatorial anecdotes. One or two of them are as 
follows : — 

On one occasion, while playing a good-sized rock-fish, it unfortu- 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 109 

nately ran around a sharp rock, and by cutting the line made its 
escape, carrying off the angler's float, and a favorite fly. On the 
third day after this event a boy who was playing on the river about 
half a mile below the Falls, happened to see a cork darting hither and 
thither across the surface of the water, and immediately went in pur- 
suit of the life-like piece of wood. After many twistings and turnings 
and a long row, he finally overtook it, and to his utter astonishment 
he landed in his boat a very handsome five pound Basse. He recog- 
nized the fly as the one commonly employed by our angler, to whom 
the fly, the float and the fish were promptly delivered by the honest boy. 

Another and a similar incident was as follows : 

Our angling friend had lost another float, by the obstinacy of 
another fish. About a week after the mishap a fisherman who had 
a " trot line" set across the river at Georgetown, for the purpose of 
taking cat-fish, discovered a great splashing in the water near the mid- 
dle of his line, and on hastening to the spot he had the pleasure of pull- 
ing up a very handsome twelve pound Basse. After faring sumptu- 
ously upon the fish, the fortunate individual took it into his head that 
the tackle belonged to the angler of the Falls, whereupon he delivered 
it to our friend, accompanied with a statement of the manner in which 
he made the discovery. The distance traveled by that fish, with a 
hook in his mouth, was four miles, and it was by the merest accident 
that his . leading string had become entangled with the '^ trot line." 

The angling ground at the Littlo Falls is annually rented by the 
proprietors to a couple of men named Joe Paine and Jim Collins, who 
are the presiding geniuses of the place, and have been such for upwards 
of twenty years. They pay a rent of seventy dollars per annum, and 
as they receive from fifty cents to five dollars from every angler who 
visits them, and as they are occasionally troubled with as many as 
thirty individuals per day, it may readily be imagined that their income 
is quite respectable. Some of Collins' friends allege that he has several 
thousand dollars stowed away in an old pocket book, which it is his 
intention to bequeath to a favorite nephew, he himself being a bachelor. 
The reputation of Jim Collins in this section of country is very exten- 
sive, and that this should be the case is not at all strange, for he is 
a decided original. He is about fifty years of age, measures six feet 
10 



110 KECOIiDS OF A TOURIST. 

five inches in liciglit, and the offshoots from the four prongs of his 
hody number twenty-four instead of twenty as in ordinary mortals ; 1 
mean by this, that his fingers and toes number no less than twenty- 
four. Notwithstanding this bountiful supply of fingers and toes, Jim 
Collins has a great antipathy to useful labor, and is as averse to walking 
as any other web-footed animal. Fishing and sleeping are his two 
principal employments ; and that he is a judge of good whisky, none 
of his acquaintance would have the hardihood to doubt. The taking of 
fcmall fish he considers a business beneath his dignity, and the conse- 
quence is that his tackle consists of a miniature bed cord, with ahook and 
cedar pole to match, and his bait a whole herring. He commonly fishes 
in a boat, and the dexterity with which he ^^Kawallujjs^' the fish upon his 
lap is truly astonishing. But if you would see Jim Collins in his 
glory, wait until about the middle of a June afternoon, after he has 
pocketed some fifteen dollars, and he is sunning himself, with pipe in 
mouth, upon the rocks, absorbed in fishy contemj^Iatiojis. His appear- 
ance at such times is allied to that of a mammoth crane, watching (as 
he does his cockney brethren of the craft) the movements of a lot of 
half-fledged water birds. 

During the fishing season ho is generally actively employed, but the 
remainder of his time he spends about the Little Falls, as if his 
presence were indispensable to the safe passage of the waters of the 
Potomac through this narrow gorge. That Jim Collins should have 
met with many ciueer mishaps, during a residence of twenty years on 
the Potomac, may be readily imagined ; but we believe, the most unique 
adventure of which he has ever been the victim, happened on this wise. 
The substance of the story is as follows : — 

Our hero is a great lover of " sturgeon meat," and for many years 
past it" has been a habit with him to fish for that huge leather mouth- 
ed monster with a large cord and sharp graffling hooks, sinking them 
to the bottom with a heavy weight and then dragging them across the 
bed of the stream ; his sense of touch being so exquisite, that he can 
always tell the instant that his hooks have struck the body of a stur- 
geon, and when this occurs it is almost certain that the fish becomes a 
victim to the cruel art. In practising this mode of fishing, Jim Collins 
invariably occupies a boat alonc;, which he fir;3t anchors in the stream. 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. Ill 

On one occasion he had been fishing in this manner for a long time 
without success, and for the want of something more exciting, he had 
resorted more frequently than usual to his junk bottle. In process of 
time, however, he found the exercise of fishing decidedly a bore, but 
as he was determined not to give up the sport and at the same time 
was determined to enjoy a quiet nap, he tied the cord to his right arm, 
and lounged over on his back for the purpose of taking a snooze. 
There was an unusual calmness in the air and upon the neighboring 
hills, and even the few anglers who were throwing the fly at the Falls, 
did so in the laziest manner imaginable. While matters were in this 
condition, a sudden splash broke the surrounding stillness, which was 
immediately followed by a deafening shout, for it was discovered that 
a sturgeon had pulled poor Collins out of his boat into the swift stream , 
and was in great danger of leading him off to the residence of David 
Jones. At one moment the fisherman seemed to have the upper hand, 
for he pulled upon his rope, and swore loudly, sprawling about the 
water like a huge devil fish; but in another instant the poor fellow 
would suddenly disappear, and an occasional bubble rising to the sur- 
face of the stream, was all the evidence that the fellow was not quite 
drowned. This contest lasted for some fifteen minutes, and had not the 
sturgeon finally made his escape, Jim Collins would have been no 
more. As it happened, however, he finally reached the shore, about 
two hundred yards below the Falls, and as he sat upon a rock, quite 
as near the river Styx as he was to the Potomac, he lavished some 
heavy curses upon the escaped sturgeon, and insisted upon it, that the 
best hooks that man ever made were now forever lost. Years have 
elapsed since this occurrence took place, and when the ancient Fisher- 
man ^'hath his will,'' he recounts the story of this catastrophe with 
as brilliant a fire in his eye as that which distinguished the counte- 
nance of Coleridge's particular friend, the "Ancient Mariner." 

Before closing this essay, it is "right and proper" that we should 
allude to the beautiful scenery that tlie angler will enjoy in going to 
and returning from the Little Falls. The entire region, in fact, 
known by the name of Cooney, and comprehending some fifteen miles 
of the Potomac, is particularly picturesque, but is at the same time 
gaid to be the most barren and useless portion of Virginia. In visit- 



112 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

ing the Falls you have to pass over a kind of wooded and rocky inter- 
val, and by an exceedingly rough road, which is annually submerged 
by the spring freshets. The water here sometimes rises to the height 
of fifty feet, and often makes a terrible display of its power ; on one 
occasion the water came down the valley with such impetuosity that a 
certain wall composed of rocks six or eight feet square, and united 
together with iron, was removed to a distance of many rods from its 
original position. To the stranger who may visit the Little Falls, we 
would say forget not on your return to Washington, the superb pros- 
pect which may be seen from the Signal Tree on the Heights of George- 
town. From that point the eye comprehends at one glance, the church 
spires and elegant residences of Georgetown, the Metropolis of the land, 
with its capitol and numerous public buildings, and the more remote 
city of Alexandria, with a reach of the magnificent Potomac, extend- 
ing a distance of at least thirty miles. The better time to look upon 
this prospect, is at the sunset hour, when the only sounds that fill the 
air are the shrieking of the swallows, and the faintly heard song of a 
lazy sailor far away upon the river, where perhaps a score or two of 
vessels are lying becalmed, while on the placid stream a retinue of 
crimson clouds are clearly and beautifully reflected. Scenes of more 
perfect loveliness are seldom found in any land. 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 113 



RATTLESNAKES. 

We believe that we have seen a greater number of these reptiles, in 
our various journeyings, and been more intensely frightened by them 
than any other scenery-loving tourist or angler in the country, and 
hence the idea of our present essay. We shall record our stock of 
information for the benefit of the general reader, rather than for the 
learned and scientific, beginning our remarks with what we know of 
the character of that really beautiful and magnanimous, but most 
deadly animal, which was adopted as the Revolutionary emblem of 
our country, as the eagle is now the emblem of the Republic. 

The rattlesnake derives its name from an instrument attached to its 
tail, consisting of a series of hollow scaly pieces which, when shaken, 
make a rattling or rustling noise. The number of these pieces or 
rattles are said to correspond with the number of years which the 
animal has attained, and some travelers assert that they have been 
discovered with thirty rattles, though thirteen is a much more com- 
mon number. It is one of the most venomous of serpents, and yet 
one that we cannot but respect, since it habitually makes the most 
honorable use of the singular appendage with which it is gifted. It 
never strikes a foe without first warning him of his danger. In form 
it is somewhat corpulent, has a flat heart-shaped head, and is supplied 
with fangs, varying from a half-inch to an inch in length, which lie 
hidden horizontally in the flesh of the upper jaw, and are capable of 
being thrown out like the blade of a knife. The venom emitted by it 
is so deadly that it has been known to cause the death of a human be- 
ing in a very few hours, and to destroy a dog or cat in less than 
twenty minutes, and yet we have met with some half-dozen indivi- 
duals in our travels who have been bitten by the rattlesnake without 
being seriously injured. Horses and cattle are known to become ex- 
ceedingly terrified at its appearance, and generally speaking, when 

10* 



114 RECORDS OE A TOURIST. 

bitten^ die in a short time, and yet we once saw a horse, which was 
only troubled in consequence of its bite, by a disease resembling the 
scurvy. The hair dropped from the skin of the quadruped, and he 
looked horribly if he did not feel so. As to the effect of this poison 
upon hogs, it has frequently been proven to be perfectly harmless, 
and we know it to be the custom in certain portions of the country 
for farmers to employ their swine for the express purpose of destroy- 
ing the rattlesnakes infesting their land. The effect of the rattle- 
snake's bite upon itself is said to be generally fatal. In regard to the 
antidote of this poison we are acquainted with only one, which is the 
plant commonly called the rattlesnake weed. Both the leaf and the 
root are employed, and applied internally as well as externally. This 
plant grows to the height of six or eight inches, has one stock and a 
leaf resembling in shape the head of the rattlesnake, and is almost in- 
variably found in those sections of the country where the reptile 
abounds. 

The courage of the rattlesnake is by no means remarkable, and it 
is but seldom that they will dispute the right of way with a man who 
is not afraid of them. They are sluggish in their movements, and ac- 
complish the most of their traveling during the nocturnal hours. 
They feed upon almost every variety of living creatures which they 
can overpower. They are not partial to water, but when compelled to 
cross a river or lake, they perform the feat in a most beautiful manner, 
holding their heads about one foot from the surface, and gliding along 
at a rapid rate. They are affectionate creatures, and it is alleged that 
when their offspring arc very young, and they are disturbed by the 
presence of man, the mothers swallow their little ones until the 
danger is past, and then disgorge them alive and writhing. 

Another of their peculiarities consists in the fact, that they may be 
entirely disarmed by brandishing over their heads the leaves of the 
white ash, which are so obnoxious to their nervous system as to pro- 
duce the most painful contortions of the body. When traveling at 
night in search of food, or for purposes of recreation, as it may be, 
they have a fashion of visiting the encampments of hunters, and it 
has been ascertained that the only way of keeping them at a respect- 
able distance is to encircle the camp with a rope, over which they are 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 115 

afraid to crawl; — and it has frequently happened to hunters, in a 
snake country, that on awaking after a night of repose, they have dis- 
covered on the outside of their magic circle as many as a dozen of the 
charming creatures, carefully coiled up and sound asleep. It is also 
related of this snake that it has the power of throwing off or suppress- 
ing a disagreeable effluvium, which is quite sickening to those who 
come within its range. If this be true it occurs chiefly in the month 
of August, when the weather is sultry and the snake is particularly 
fat. That this snake has the power of charming, as some writers 
maintain, may be true, but we know not of an authenticated instance. 
That it may have a very quiet way of stealing upon its prey seems to 
us much more plausible — but upon this fact we are non-committal. 
As to their power of hhsing — that also is an undecided question. In 
regard to their manner of biting we can speak with more confidence. 
They never attack a man without first coiling themselves in a grace- 
ful manner, and instead of jumping they merely extend thdr bodies, 
with the quickness of thought, towards their mark, and if they do not 
reach it, they have to coil themselves again for a second effort, and 
when they hit a man at all, it is generally on his heel, for the bruis- 
ing of which they have the authority of the Scriptures. 

The rattlesnake is peculiar to the American continent. Four va- 
rieties alone are known to naturalists, three of which are found in the 
United States, and one in South America. In the States bordering on 
the Gulf of Mexico they attain the length of seven and eight feet and 
a diameter of three to four inches — the males having four fangs, and 
the females only two. These are characterized by a kind of diamond 
figure on the skin, and are partial to the low or bottom lands of the 
country. Those found in the Middle and Northern States are called 
the common or banded rattlesnakes, and are altogether the most 
abundant in the Union. They vary in length from two and a half to 
four feet, and are partial to mountainous and rocky districts. There 
is also a very small, but most dangerous variety, called the ground 
rattlesnakes, which are found on the sterile and sandy prairies of the 
AVest, and to a limited extent in the barren districts of the South. In 
Canada they are almost unknown, and even in the more thickly set- 
tled States of the Union they are rapidly becoming extinct. As to 



116 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

their value, it may be stated that their oil and gall are highly prized 
in all sections of the Union for medicinal purposes, and by the In- 
dians and slave population of the South, their flesh is frequently cm- 
ployed as an article of food, and really considered sweet and nou- 
rishing. 

The attachment of the Aborigines to this famous reptile is proverb- 
ial : among nearly all the tribes, even at the present day, it is seldom 
disturbed, but is designated by the endearing epithet of grandfatlier. 
It is recorded, however, by the early historians, that when one tribe 
desired to challenge another to combat, they were in the habit of 
sending into the midst of their enemy the skin of a rattlesnake, where- 
by it would appear to have been employed as an emblem of revenge. 
And as to the origin of the rattlesnake, the old men among the Chero- 
kees relate a legend to the following effect, which, the reader will notice, 
bears a striking analogy to the history of our Saviour. A very beau- 
tiful young man, with a white face and wrapped in a white robe, once 
made his appearance in their nation, and commanded them to abandon 
all their old customs and festivals, and to adopt a new religion. He 
made use of the softest language, and everything that he did proved 
him to be a good man. It so happened, however, that he could make 
no friends among them^ and the medicine men of the nation conspired 
to take away his life. In many ways did they try to do this — by 
lashing him with serpents and by giving him poison, but were always 
unsuccessful. But in process of time the deed was accomplished and 
in the following manner. It was known that the good stranger was 
in the habit of daily visiting a certain spring for the purpose of quench- 
ing his thirst, and bathing his body. In view of this fact, the magi- 
cians made a very beautiful war-club, inlaid with bone and shells, and 
decorated with rattles, and this club they offered to the Great Spirit, 
with the prayer that he would teach them how to destroy the stranger. 
In answer to the prayer, a venomous snake was created and carefully 
hidden under a leaf by the side of the spring. The stranger, as usual, 
came there to drink, was bitten by the snake, and perished. The 
Cherokee nation then fell in love with the snake, and having asked 
the Great Spirit to distinguish it, by some peculiar mark, from all the 
other snakes in the world, he complied by transferring to its body the 



EECORDS OF A TOURIST. 117 

rattles wliich bad made the club of sacrifice so musical to tlie ear^ and 
so beautiful to tLe eye. And from that rattlesnake are descended all 
the poisonous snakes now scattered through the world. 

We commenced this article with the determination of not writing a 
single paragraph (for the above legend, after a fashion, is historical) 
which could be classed with the unbelievable things called " Snake 
Stories," but the following matter-of-fact, though disconnected anec- 
dotes, may not be unacceptable to our readers. 

We were once upon a fishing expedition among the mountains of 
North Carolina, with two other gentlemen, when it so happened that 
we concluded to spend the night in a deserted log cabin, belonging to 
one of the party. By the light of a large fire, we partook of a cold 
but comfortable supper, and after talking ourselves into a drowsy 
mood, we huddled together on the floor, directly in front of the fire- 
place, and were soon in a sound sleep. About midnight, when the 
fire was out, one of the party was awakened by a singular rattling 
noise, and having roused his companions, it was ascertained beyond a 
doubt that there were two rattlesnakes within the room where they 
were lying. We arose, of course, horrified at the idea, and as we were 
in total darkness, we were afraid even to move for fear of being bitten. 
We soon managed, however, to strike a light, and when we did so, we 
found one of our visitors on the hearth, and one in the remotest corner 
of the room. We killed them, as a matter of course, with a most 
hearty relish, and in the morning another of the same race, just with- 
out the threshold of the cabin. The reptiles had probably left the 
cabin just before our arrival, and on returning at midnight, had ex- 
pressed their displeasure at our intrusion upon their abode, by sound- 
ing their rattles. 

On another occasion we were of a party of anglers who killed a 
rattlesnake on one of the mountains overlooking Lake George (where 
this reptile is very abundant), and after its head had been cut ofi" and 
buried, one of the party affirmed that there was not a person present 
who could take the dead snake in his hand, hold it out at arm's length, 
and give it a sudden squeeze, without dropping it to the ground. A 
wager was offered, and by the most curious and courageous of the party 
was accepted. He took the snake in his hand and obeyed the instruc- 



118 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 



tions, when the serpentine body suddenly sprang as if endowed witli 
life^ and the headless trunk struck the person holding it, with consi- 
derable force upon the arm. To add that the snake fell to the ground 
most suddenly is hardly necessary. We enjoyed a laugh at the ex- 
pense of our ambitious friend, but the phenomenon which he made 
known, remains to this day entirely unexplained. Since that time we 
have been led to believe that there is not one man in a thousand who 
would have tlie fortitude to succeed in the experiment above men- 
tioned. 



I 



EECORDS OF A TOURIST. 119 



A WESTERN PIONEER, 

It was about twenty years ago, on a bright November morning; 
that a large covered wagon, drawn by four horses, came to a halt in 
front of the office of the Receiver of Money for the Public Lands 
in the village of Monroe, territory of Michigan. The wagon in 
question contained implements of husbandry, a plentiful stock of 
provisions, and all the household furniture of a family consisting of 
an old man and his wife, three sons, and two daughters; and their 
outside possessions were comprised in a small but miscellaneous herd 
of cows, oxen, sheep, and hogs. The head of this family was a New 
York farmer in indigent circumstances, who had conceived the idea 
of making himself a home in what was then the wilderness of Michi- 
gan. All the money he had in the world was one hundred dollars, 
and with this he purchased at the land-office a tract of eighty acres 
of uncultivated land, which he had never seen, but upon which he 
was about to locate with his family. The honest and independent 
deportment of this emigrant enlisted the feelings of the Receiver, and 
he accordingly extended an invitation to him and his party to spend 
the night under his roof. The invitation was accepted, and after a 
^Hucid interval" of comfortable repose, and cheered by a warm 
breakfast, the emigrating party respectfully took their leave of their 
entertainer, and started upon their dreary pilgrimage. 

The distance they had to travel was some hundred and eighty 
miles. As the roads were new and rough, they plodded along, day 
after day, at a slow rate, and with much difficulty; took their meals 
in the open air, and spent their nights under a tent, with only a few 
heavy quilts to protect them from the dampness of the ground. 
While upon this journey they were overtaken by cold weather, and, 
in fording one of the many streams which crossed their route, the 
venerable emigrant had one of his legs frost-bitten, which resulted, 



120 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

after raucli delay aud trouble in sending for a physician, in its am- 
putation. His life was spared, however, and in due time, in spite of 
the calamity which had befallen them, the emigrants were encamped 
upon their " land of promise/' 

Having thus reached the end of their journey, the first thing to be 
done was to erect a suitable dwelling wherein to spend the winter ; 
and, the father of the family having been rendered almost helpless 
by his misfortune, the labor of building it devolved exclusively upon 
his sons, the youngest of whom was a mere boy. Animated by a 
most noble spirit, they fell to work without any delay, and in the 
course of ten days had accomplished their first task, and were the 
masters of a comfortable log-cabin. It stood on the sandy knoll of 
an '^oak opening,'' and in the immediate vicinity of a sparkling 
rivulet. The only evidences of civilization which surrounded them 
were the stumps, and chips, and decaying branches which covered the 
site of their labors ; but the emigrants had a home, and though a 
rude and apparently comfortless one, they were satisfied, if not happy. 

The winter days passed rapidly away; and, while the disabled 
emigrant did little else than keep himself warm by his huge wood- 
fire, his sons were felling the trees on every side, and doing their ut- 
most to enclose their domain. And at night, when gathered at the 
evening meal, or in a circle around their hearth, and the newly-cut 
wood was hissing under the influence of the bright flame, they would 
talk over the pleasures of other days, experienced in a distant portion 
of the land, and cherish the hope that the future had even more 
happiness in store. Within their cabin was to be found the spirit 
of genuine religion, and, as the hopeful music of woman's voice was 
there, and their hearts were bound together by the chords of a holy 
family love, they were indeed happy. 

It was now the spring-time of the year, a warmer tint was in the 
sky, and all around the wilderness was beginning to blossom like the 
rose. The birds were building their nests, and their sweet minstrelsy 
was heard throughout the air ; and there, too, was the tinkling of 
bells, for the cattle sought their food in the remote dells, and returned 
at the sunset hour, with their udders teeming full. The brush and 
waste wood of the ^^ girdled clearings" were gathered into heaps aud 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 121 

burnt — in the daytime forming fimtastic columns of smoke, and at 
nigbt making the midnight darkness, save where the flame was par- 
ticularly brilliant, more profound. And then the plough was brought 
forth, and made to try its strength in turning up the virgin soil. Our 
emigrant friend has now entirely recovered from his late disaster, 
and, having manufactured for himself an artificial leg, he begins to 
think it time for him to lend a helping hand towards accelerating the 
improvements of his " farm." The smell of the ploughed field has 
given him a thrill of pleasure, and he determines to try what he can 
accomplish in the way of planting corn. This effort proves success- 
ful, and, as he becomes accustomed to the use of his new member, he 
takes the lead in most of the farming operations, and thinks no more 
of his past suiferings than of the fact that he is what many people 
are pleased to term a poor man. 

As industry and virtue are almost invariably followed by prosperity, 
we must not wonder at the future career of our Western pioneer. 
Five years have passed away, and, as his crops have been abundant, 
we find him the possessor of half a thousand acres of valuable land 
instead of one hundred. He has also gathered the means to build 
himself a new frame house ; and, as the '' harvest is past and the 
summer ended," his barns are filled to overflowing. On every side 
are spread out extensive fields, and his hired men may be counted by 
the dozen. They have gathered in the crops, and, after a brief fur- 
lough, a portion of them will take possession of the barns, and de- 
vote themselves to the flail, while the remainder will enter some 
neighboring woodland with their axes, and proceed in their laborious 
work of destruction. Winter comes, and still the sounds of the flail 
and the axe are heard in the barn and in the forest. The coldest of 
winds may blow, and the snow may fall so as to bury the fences, but 
what matter ? The genius of health reigns supreme. All the day 
long, and at night, huge fires are blazing in the dwelling of the 
pioneer ; his larder is filled v/ith an abundance of the good things of 
life, and his numerous cattle are more comfortably housed than him- 
self when first he came into the wilderness. Spring has returned 
once more, and a new life has been instilled not only into the earth, 
but also into the blood of man. 
11 



122 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

It is now the delightful season of midsummer, and we see before 
us, basking in the sunshine, a domain of two thousand acres of land, 
in the highest state of cultivation. Capping the summit of a hill 
stands a spacious and elegant mansion, surrounded with outhouses, 
and bespeaking the possessor to be a man of opulence and taste. In 
one direction, fading away to a great distance, lie a succession of 
fields waving with golden grain; in another, hill beyond hill of 
the deep green and graceful corn ; in another we see a magnificent 
meadow, with hundreds of cattle and horses and sheep quietly 
grazing or sporting in their glee ; and in another direction an almost 
impenetrable forest, where the black-walnut, the white-wood, the 
oak, and the hickory strive to excel each other in the respective at- 
tributes of beauty and might. And this is the home and the 
domain of the Western pioneer. Less than a mile distant from his 
mansion stands a charming village, from which arises a single spire, 
pointing to the Christian's home. The pastor of that church is the 
youngest son of our friend the pioneer. Within said village, too, 
may be seen an '^ Eagle Hotel,^' and a ^^New York Store,'' which 
are both the property of his two elder sons. At their expense a 
public school has been established within the village. The country 
around is intersected with the best of roads, along which the 
heavily-laden wain pursues its snail-like course, and the mail coach 
rattles along with its panting horses, nine passengers on the in- 
side, and a deep coating of dust on the boot and everything out- 
side. Plenty and peace have taken possession of the land, and 
the pioneer of other days has become the nabob of the present 
time. 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 123 



PIKE FISHING. 

If so be tlie angler catch no fisli yet hath he a wholesome walk to the brook- 
side, and pleasant shade by the sweet silver streams. 

Robert Burtox, 

The Pike is a common fish in all the temperate, and some of the 
northern regions of the world ; but in ho country does he arrive at 
greater perfection than in the United States. For some unaccount- 
able reason he is generally known in this country as the pickerel ; and 
we would therefore intimate to our readers that our present .discourse is 
to be of the legitimate pike. In England, he is known under the 
several names of pike, jack, pickerel and luce. His body is elongated 
and nearly of a uniform depth from the head to the tail ; the head is 
also elongated, and resembles that of the duck ; his mouth is very large 
and abundantly supplied with sharp teeth, and his scales are small and 
particularly adhesive ; the color of his back is a dark brown, sides a 
mottled green or yellow, and belly a silvery white. The reputation of 
this fish for amiability is far from being enviable, for he is called not 
only the shark of the fresh waters, but also the tyrant of the liquid 
plain. He is a cunning and savage creature, and for these reasons 
even the most humane of fishermen are seldom troubled with conscien- 
tious scruples when they succeed in making him a captive. Pliny 
and Sir Francis Bacon both considered the pike to be the longest 
lived of any fresh water fish, and Gesner mentions a pike which he 
thought to be two hundred years old. Of these ancient fellows, 
Walton remarks, that they have more in them of state than goodness, 
the middle sized individuals being considered the best eating. The 
prominent peculiarity of this fish is his voraciousness. Edward Jesse 
relates that five large pike once devoured about eight hundred gud- 
geons in the course of three weeks. He swallows every animal he 
can subdue, and is so much of a cannibal that he will devour his own 



124 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

kind full as soon as a common minnow. Young ducks and even kittens 
have been found in his stomachy and it is said that he often contends 
"with the otter for his prey. Gesner relates the story that a pike once 
attacked a mule while it was drinking on the margin of a pond, and 
his teeth having become fastened in the snout of the astonished beast, 
he was safely landed on the shore. James Wilson once killed a pike 
weighing seven pounds, in whose stomach was found another pike 
weighing over a pound, and in the mouth of the youthful fish was 3'et 
discovered a respectable perch. Even men, while wading in a pond, 
have been attacked by this fresh water wolf. He is so much of an 
exterminator, that when placed in a small lake with other fish, it is 
not long before he becomes " master of all he surveys,'^ having de- 
populated his watery world of every species but his own. The fol- 
lowing story, illustrating the savage propensity of this fish, is related 
by J. V. C. Smith. A gentleman was angling for pike, and having 
captured one, subsequently met a shepherd and his dog, and presented 
the former with his prize. While engaged in clearing his tackle, the 
dog seated himself unsuspectingly in the immediate vicinity of the 
pike, and as fate would have it, his tail was ferociously snapped at by 
the gasping fish. The dog was of course much terrified, ran in every 
direction to free himself, and at last plunged into the stream. The 
hair had become so entangled in the fish's teeth, however, that it 
could not release its hold. The dog again sought the land, and made for 
his master's cottage, where he was finally freed from his unwilling 
persecutor; but notwithstanding the unnatural adventure of the fish, 
he actually sunk his teeth into the stick which was used to force open 
his jaws. 

The pike of this country does not difi"er essentially from the pike of 
Europe. His foqd usually consists of fish and frogs, though he is fiir 
from being particular in this matter. He loves a still, shady water, 
in river or pond, and usually lies in the vicinity of flags, bulrushes 
and water-lilies, though he often shoots out into the clear stream, and 
on such occasions frequently affords the rifleman a deal of sport. In 
summer he is taken at the top and in the middle, but in winter at the 
bottom. His time for spawning is March, and. he is in season about 
eight months in the year. In speaking of the size of this fish, the 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 125 

anglers of Europe have recorded some marvelous stories, of wliich we 
know nothing, and care less. In this country they vary from two to 
four feet in length, and in weight from two to forty pounds ; when 
weighing less than two pounds, he is called a jack. As an article of 
food he seems to be in good repute ; but since we once found a large 
water-snake in the stomach of a monster fish, we have never touched 
him when upon the table. He suits not our palate, but as an object 
of sport we esteem him highly, and can never mention his name with- 
out a thrill of pleasure. 

In this place we desire to record our opinion against the idea that 
the pike and maskalunge are one and the same fish. For many 
years we entertained the opinion that there was no difference between 
them, only that the latter was merely an overgrown pike. We have 
more recently had many opportunities of comparing the two species 
together, and we know that to the careful and scientific observer, there 
is a marked difference. The head of a maskalunge is the smallest ; 
he is the stoutest fish, is more silvery in color, grows to a much larger 
size, and is with difiiculty tempted to heed the lures of the angler. 
They are so precisely similar in their general habits, however, that 
they must be considered as belonging to the pike family. They are pos- 
sibly the independent, eccentric and self satisfied nabobs of the race to 
which they belong ; always managing to keep the world ignorant of 
their true character, until after their days are numbered. 

We will now mention one or two additional traits, which we had 
nearly forgotten. The first is, that the pike is as distinguished for 
his abstinence as for his voracity. During the summer months, his 
digestive organs seem to be somewhat torpid, and this is the time that 
he is out of season. During this period he is particularly listless in 
his movements, spending nearly all the sunny hours basking near the 
surface of the water; and as this is the period when the smaller fry 
are usually commencing their active existence, we cannot but distin- 
guish in this arrangement of nature the wisdom of Providence. 
Another habit peculiar to this fish, is as follows : — During the autumn, 
he spends the day-time in deep water, and the nights in the shal- 
lowest water he can find along the shores of river or lake. We have 
frequently seen them so very near the dry land as to display their 

11* 



126 KECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

fins. What their object can be in thus spending the dark hours, it is 
hard to determine : is it to enjoy the warmer temperature of the shal- 
low water, or for the purpose of watching and capturing any small 
land animals that may come to the water to satisfy their thirst ? We 
have heard it alleged that they seek the shore for the purpose of 
spawning, but it is an established fact that they cast their spawn in 
the spring ; and, besides, the months during which they seek the 
shore as above stated, are the very ones in which they are in the best 
condition, and afford the angler the finest sport. Autumn is the time, 
too, when they are more frequently and more easily taken with the 
spear, than during any other season. And as to this spearing busi- 
ness, generally speaking, we consider it an abominable practice, but 
in the case of the savage and obstinate pike, it ought to be counte- 
nanced even by the legitimate angler. 

We have angled for pike in nearly all the waters of this country 
where they abound. The immense quantity of book lore that we have 
read respecting the character of pike tackle, has always seemed to us 
an intelligent species of nonsense- — a kind of literature originally 
invented by tackle manufacturers. Our own equipment for pike 
fishing we consider first-rate, and yet it consists only of a heavy rod 
and reel, a stout linen line, a brass snell, a sharp Kirby hook, and a 
landing net. For bait we prefer a live minnow, though a small 
shiner, or the belly of a yellow perch, is nearl}'- as sure to attract no- 
tice. We have taken a pike with a gaudy fly, and also with an artifi- 
cial minnow, but you cannot depend upon these allurements. Sinkers 
we seldom use, and the fashionable thing called a float we utterly 
abominate. We have fished for pike in almost every manner, but our 
favorite method has ever been from an anchored boat, when our only 
companion was a personal friend, and a lover of the written and un- 
written poetry of nature. This is the most quiet and contemplative 
method, and unquestionably one of the most successful ones; for 
though the pike is not easily frightened, it takes but a single splash 
of an oar when trolling, to set him a-thinking, which is quite as un- 
fortunate for the angler's success as if he were actually alarmed. An- 
other advantage is, that while swinging to an anchor you may fish at 
the bottom, if you please, or try the stationary trolling fashion. To 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 127 

make our meaning understood, we would add, that an expert angler 
can throw his hook in any direction from hi^ boat, to the distance of 
at least a hundred feet, and in pulling it in, he secures all the advan- 
tages that result from the common mode of trolling. The pike is a 
fish which calls forth a deal of patience, and must be humored ; for 
he will sometimes scorn the handsomest bait, apparently out of mere 
spite ; but the surest time to take him is when there is a cloudy sky 
and a southerly breeze. Live fish are the best bait, as we have 
before remarked, though the leg of a frog is good, and in winter a 
piece of pork, but nothing can be better than a shiner or a little perch j 
and it might here be remarked, that as the pike is an epicure in the 
manner of his eating, it is invariably a good plan to let him have his 
own time, after he has seized the bait. As to torchlight fishing for 
pike, though unquestionably out of the pale of the regular angler's 
sporting, it is attended with much that we must deem poetical and 
interesting. Who can doubt this proposition, when wo consider the 
picturesque efi'ect of a boat and lighted torch, gliding along the wild 
shores of a lake, on a still, dark night, with one figure noiselessly 
plying an oar, and the animated attitude of another relieved against 
the fire-light, and looking into the water like Orpheus into hell. And 
remember, too, the thousand inhabitants of the liquid element that 
we see, and almost fancy to be endowed with human sympathies ? 
What a pleasure to behold the various finny tribes amid their own 
chosen haunts, leading, as Leigh Hunt has exquisitely written, 

"A cold, sweet, silver life, wrapped in round waves, 
Quickened with touches of transporting fear!" 

In some of the Northern States fishing for pike with set lines 
through the ice, is practiced to a great extent. The lines are com- 
monly attached to a figure four, by which the fisherman is informed 
that he has a bite, and if he has many lines out and the fish are in a 
humor to be captured, this mode of fishing is really very exciting. 
Especially so, if the ice is smooth and the fisherman can attend to his 
hooks with a pair of sharp skates attached to his feet. 

Another mode for catching pike in the winter, and which we have 
seen practiced in the lakes and rivers of Michigan; is as follows. You 



128 KECOKDS OF A TOURIST. 

cut a large hole in tlie ice, over which you erect a tent or small porta- 
ble house ; and after taking a seat therein, you let down a bait for 
the purpose of alluring the fish, and as they follow the hook, even to 
your feet, you pick them out with a sharp spear. 

But it is time that we should change the tone of our discourse and 
mention the favorite waters of the American pike. The largest we 
have ever seen were taken in the Upper Mississippi, and on the St. 
Joseph and Kaisin rivers of Michigan, where they are very abundant. 
They are also found in nearly all the streams emptying into Lakes 
Michigan, Erie, and Ontario; — also, in the Ohio and its tributaries. 
We have heard of them in the Upper St. Lawrence, and know them 
to abound in Lake Champlain, and in a large proportion of the lakes 
and rivers of New England. A very pretty lady once told us that she 
had seen a pike taken from Lake Champlain, which was as long as the 
sofa upon which we were seated together, and conversing upon the gen- 
tle art of fishing, and the tender one of love. Pike fishing with the 
hook we have not practiced to a very great extent. Our angling 
experience has been chiefly confined to the smaller lakes of Connect- 
icut, particularly those in the vicinity of Norwich. Our favorite resort 
has been Gardner's Lake, whose shores are surrounded with pleasant 
wood-crowned hills, teeming with partridge and wood-cock, and the 
Sabbath stillness which usually reigns about it is seldom broken, save 
by the dipping oar or the laugh of the light-hearted fisherman. Dearly 
indeed do we cherish the memory of the pleasant days spent upon this 
picturesque lake ; and we hope it may never be used for any other 
purpose than to mirror the glories of heaven, and never be visited by 
any but genuine sportsmen and true-hearted lovers of nature. Pres- 
ton Lake is another beautiful sheet of water near Norwich, which 
reminds us of a night adventure. A couple of us had visited it for 
the purpose of taking pike by torch-light, having brought our spears 
and dry-pine all the way from Norwich in a one-horse wagon. It 
was a cold but still autumnal night, and as we tied our horse to a tree 
in an open field, we had every reason to anticipate a "glorious time.'^ 
So far as the fish were concerned we enjoyed fine sport, for we caught 
about a dozen pike, varying from one to four pounds in weight ; but 
the miseries we subsequently endured were positively intolerable. 



RECORDS OP A TOURIST. 129 

Not only did we work an everlasting while to make our boat sea- 
wortbjj but in our impatience to reach the fishing grounds^ we mis- 
placed our brandy bottle in the tall grass, and were therefore deprived 
of its warming companionship. About midnight a^heavy fog began 
to arise, which not only prevented us from distinguishing a pike from 
a log of wood, but caused us to become frequently entangled in the 
top of a dry tree, lying on the water. Our next step, therefore, was 
to go home, but then came the trouble of finding our " desired haven.'' 
This we did happen to find, for a wonder, and having gathered up our 
plunder started on our course over the frosty grass after our vehicle 
and horse. We found them, but it was in a most melancholy plight 
indeed. Like a couple of large fools, we had omitted to release the 
horse from the wagon as we should have done, and the consequence 
was that he had released himself by breaking the fills and tearing off 
the harness, and we discovered him quietly feeding a few paces from 
the tree to which we had fastened him. What next to do, we could not 
in our utter despair possibly determine ; but after a long consultation 
we both concluded to mount the miserable horse, and with our fish 
in hand we actually started upon our miserable journey home. Our 
fish were so heavy that we were compelled at the end of the first mile 
to throw them away, and as the day was breaking we entered the 
silent streets of Norwich, pondering upon the pleasures of pike fishing 
by torch-light, and solemnly counting the cost of our nocturnal expe- 
dition. 

But the most successful pike fishing we ever enjoyed was at Crow 
Wing, on the Upper Mississippi. We were spending a few days with 
an isolated Indian trader of the wilderness, around whose cabin were 
encamped about three hundred Chippewa Indians. Seldom was it 
that we allowed a night to pass away, without trying our luck with 
the spear, and as a dozen canoes were often engaged in the same sport, 
the bosom of the river often presented a most romantic and beautiful 
appearance. Each canoe usually contained two or three individuals, 
and our torches, which were made of dried birch bark, threw such a 
flood of light upon the translucent water, that we could see every 
object in the bed of the river with the utmost distinctness. Beautiful 
indeed were those fishing scenes, and when the canoes had floated 



130 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

down the river for a mile or two^ the homeward bound races that fol- 
lowed between the shouting Indians were exciting in the extreme. 
And what added to our enjoyment of this sporting was the idea that 
to grasp the hand of a white man (besides that of our host)^ we should 
have to travel one hundred miles through a pathless wilderness. We 
seldom took any note of time, and sometimes were throwing the spear 
even when the day was breaking. The largest fish that we saw taken 
at Crow Wing weighed upwards of forty pounds, and we have known 
five spearmen to take seventy pike and maskalunge in a single night. 

But we must curtail our pike stories, for we purpose to append to 
our remarks a few interesting observations upon that and a kindred 
fish which have been kindly furnished to us by an accomplished 
scholar, a genuine angler and a valued friend, John R. Bartlett, Esq. 

The pike bears the same relation to the finny tribes that the hyena 
and jackall do to animals, the vulture to birds, or the spider to insects 
— one of the most voracious of fishes. He feeds alike on the living or 
dead; and even those of his own brethren which are protected by 
nature against the attacks of other fish, find no protection against him. 
It is remarkable in the economy of animals, that while nature provides 
her weaker and smaller creatures with the means of defence against 
the stronger ones, she has, at the same time, furnished some of the 
latter with weapons, apparently for the very purpose of overcoming 
the feeble, however well they may be guarded. Thus, the pike, with 
its immense jaws, armed with innumerable teeth, is able to seize 
and crush every kind of fish. Its own kind do not escape, for in- 
stances are frequent when a pike of three or four pounds is found in 
the stomach of one of twelve or fifteen pounds weight. 

It is interesting to notice the habits of the pike, which an angler 
may easily do in still, clear water. They have been characterized as 
a solitary, melancholy, and bold fish. Never are they found in schools, 
or even in pairs, as most other fish are, nor are they often seen in 
open water, where other fish would discover them and avoid their 
grasp. When in open water they lie very near the bottom, quite 
motionless, appearing like a sunken stick. Their usual and favorite 
place of resort is among the tall weeds where they cannot be seen. 
Here they lie, as it were, in ambush, waiting the approach of some in- 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 131 

uocentj unsuspecting fish^ wlieu tliej dart forth with a swiftness 
which none of the finny tribe can attain, seize their harmless victim, 
and slowly bear it away to some secluded spot. Here they crush their 
prey with their immense jaws, and leisurely force it into their capacious 
stomachs. Often, when angling for the pike with a live perch, from 
a wharf so far raised above the water that I could see every object for 
twenty feet on either side, a pike has so suddenly darted from a 
cluster of weeds, beyond the range of my vision, that the first inti- 
mation I had of his presence was, that he had seized my bait. 

On one occasion, when angling in the St. Lawrence, where pike are 
very abundant, I put a minnow on my hook, and threw my line to- 
wards a mass of weeds, in the hope of tempting a perch to take it. Not 
many minutes had elapsed before my silvery minnow had tempted the 
appetite of one, which soon conveyed him to his maw. Knowing that 
my game was sure, I let him play about, first allowing him to run to 
the extent of my line and then drawing him towards me, when on a 
sudden a pike shot from his hiding place and.seized my perch. I was 
obliged to let the fellow have his own way, and give him all the time 
he wanted to swallow the perch, when with a good deal of difficulty, I 
succeeded in disabling him and towed him in triumph to the shore. 
The perch weighed a pound and a half; the pike ten pounds. 

The long and slender form of the pike, tapering towards the head 
and tail, enables him to move with great rapidity through the water, 
while his smooth and fiuless back facilitates his movements through 
the weeds or marine plants. Thus has nature provided this fish with 
a form adapted to its habits, and with large and well-armed jaws, to 
give it a pre-eminence among the finny tribes which inhabit the same 
waters. I have often thought why so great an enemy, so great a de- 
vourer of his race, should be placed among them, favored by so many 
advantages. May it not, nay, must it not be for some wise purpose ? 
It is known how very prolific fishes are, and unless some way was pro- 
vided to lessen the number, our inland waters could not contain the 
vast numbers which a few years would produce. Most fish live on 
each other, others on decomposing substances floating about. It is not 
always the largest that prey on each other, for the sturgeon is one of 
the largest fresh water fish, and he subsists on decomposing matter, or 



132 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

minute fish. A few pike placed in a lake, would very efFectuallj pre- 
vent an over-population. May it not, then, be so ordered that the 
inhabitants of the seas, which are not so favored as those who dwell on 
the earth's surface, and who have a great variety of food to supply 
their wants, may have the means of providing their own sustenance 
by an immense increase of their own species ? 

Blaine observes that ^' the abstinence of the pike and jack is no less 
singular than their voracity; during the summer months their digest- 
ive faculties are somewhat torpid, which appears a remarkable peculi- 
arity in pike economy, seeing it must be in inverse ratio to the wants 
of the fish, for they must be at this time in a state of emaciation 
from the effects of spawning. During the summer they are listless, 
and affect the surface of the water, where in warm sunny weather 
they seem to bask in a sleepy state for hours together. It is not a 
little remarkable, that smaller fish appear to be aware when this absti- 
nent state of their foe is upon him ; for they who at other times are 
evidently impressed with- an instinctive dread of his presence, are now 
swimming around him with total unconcern. At these periods, no 
baits, however tempting, can allure him; but on the contrary, he re- 
treats from everything of the kind. Windy weather is alone capable 
of exciting his dormant powers. This inaptitude to receive food with 
the usual keenness, continues from the time they spawn, until tiie 
time of their recovery from the effects of it." 

The peculiarity above noticed does not entirely apply t'o the pike of 
the Northern States, and particularly of the great lakes and rivers, 
whose waters are not so sensibly affected by the heat of summer as 
shallow water is. In the smaller streams he lies in the listless state 
described by Mr. Blaine, but when he can reach the deep water he al- 
ways does so. 

Pike are found in all the lakes and inland waters of the Northern 
and Middle States of the Union. In the great lakes they grow to an 
enormous size. No fish is better known throughout Europe and the 
northern parts of Asia. In colder climes he attains the largest size, 
and is said by Walkenburg to disajDpear in geographical distribution 
with the fir. In our waters they arc taken of all sizes, from four or 
five pounds to fifty or sixty. Their haunts arc generally among the 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 133 

weeds or marine plants near the shore^ or in deep bays where the water 
is not made rough by winds, and in all parts of rivers. They are 
rarely found on rocky bottoms or bars. A high wind and rough sea 
often drives them from their weedy haunts into deeper water. I have 
noticed this particularly on Lake Ontario. From wharves where basse 
are only taken on ordinary occasions, pike will bite with avidity when 
a severe gale is blowing and the water is in a disturbed state. 

This fish, according to Donovan, attains a larger size in a shorter 
time, in proportion to most others. In the course of the first year 
it grows eight or ten inches; the second, twelve or fourteen; the third, 
eighteen or twenty inches. Some pike were turned into a pond in 
England, the largest of which weighed two and a half pounds. Four 
years after, the water was let off, when one pike of nineteen pounds, 
and others of from eleven to fifteen, were found. Mr. Jesse, in his 
G-leanings of Natural History, relates certain experiments by which 
he shows that the growth of pike is about four pounds a year, which 
corresponds with the growth of those before stated. 

The various books on sporting give numerous instances of pike 
weighing from thirty to forty pounds, taken in England, though an 
instance is mentioned in Dodsley's Register for 1765, of an enormous 
pike weighing 170 pounds, which was taken from a pool near New- 
port, England, which had not been fished in for ages. In Ireland and 
Scotland, they are found larger than in England. In the Shannon 
and Lough Corrib, they have been found from seventy to ninety-two 
pounds in weight. At Broadford, near Limerick, one was taken 
weighing ninety-six pounds. Another was caught by trolling in Loch 
Pentluliche, of fifty pounds ; and another in Loch Spey, that weighed 
146 pounds. But these are small in comparison with a pike, which is 
stated by Gesner (and from him quoted by most writers on fish) to 
have been taken in a pool near the capital of Sweden, in the year 
1497, which was fifteen feet in length, and weighed 350 pounds. Un- 
der the skin of this enormous fish was discovered a ring of cypress 
brass, having a Greek inscription round the rim, which was inter- 
preted by Dalburgus, Bishop of Worms, to signify: "I am the fish 
first of all placed in this pond, by the hands of Frederic the Second, 
on the 5th of October, in the year of grace 1230;" which would 
12 



134 EECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

make its age 267 years. The ring about his neck was made with 
springs, so as to enlarge as the fish grew. His skeleton was for a long 
time preserved at Manheim. 

During the past summer, which I spent on the banks of the St. 
Lawrence, I had frequently tried the spool trolling, and always with 
success, Sometimes I would use two lines, one 70, the other 120 
feet in length. On the larger one I had the best success, and my bait 
would be seized three times, when on the shorter one it would be but 
once ; it being farther from the boat, the movements of which through 
the water, and the noise of the oars, drove the fish off. From expe- 
rience I am satisfied that long trolling lines are the best. Basse will 
seize a fly or spoon at a few feet distance, but a pike will not. I have 
tried the experiment, when trolling for pike, to attach to one hook a 
bait of pork and red flannel, a very common bait, and to the other a 
brass spoon. The latter was invariably seized first, for the only reason, 
I suppose, that it made more show in the water. Neither resembled 
a fish, fly, or any living creature, but curiosity or hunger attracted the 
fish to the strange bait gliding through the water, which they seized, 
paying with their lives the penalty for so doing. 

There is a large fish of the pike species commonly called the Mas- 
kinonge or Maskalunge before spoken of, of what specific character is 
not well understood by naturalists. Their habits and their haunts are 
the same as those of the pike, and they attain a larger size than any 
fish of our inland waters. I hiwe seen them carried by two men of 
ordinary height, with a pole running through the gills and supported 
on the shoulders of the men. In this position the tail of the fish 
dragged on the ground. Forty or fifty pounds is not an unusual 
weight for them, and instances are known when much larger ones 
have been caught. Maskinonge are generally taken in seines, seldom 
with the hook. Their size is so large that the ordinary baits of anglers 
would be no temptation for them. In the several opportunities which 
I have had to examine the stomachs of these fish I have invariably 
found within them, fish of very large size, such as no angler would 
ever think of putting on his line. The largest perch I ever saw, about 
fifteen inches in length, was taken from the paunch of a Maskinonge, 
and I have often seen catfish, perch, and other fish, weighing from one 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 135 

to two pounds, taken from them ; but in no instance small fish ; and 
hence anglers have not taken them, as few would angle with live bait 
of that size, where there are no fish but these which would take it. 

The most exciting sport I ever had on the St. Lawrence, or any- 
where else, was in taking a maskinonge. It was a regular battle, such 
only as the salmon anglers enjoy when they hook a twenty pounder. 
As the method was quite different, I will send you all the particulars. 

A friend and myself took a small skiff, with one trolling line, intend- 
ing to take turns at the oars, and proceeded at once to a favorite spot 
among the "Thousand Islands." 

I held the trolling line with a spoon hook attached, while my com- 
panion pulled the oars. We sailed among the secluded places, wher- 
ever weeds were seen below the surface of the water, and were rewarded 
with good sport by taking several fine pike, weighing from six to 
fifteen pounds, which we managed to secure with ease, save the largest, 
which gave us some trouble. We then thought we would try deeper 
water, in the hope of tempting larger fish. A few windings among 
the clusters of small islands brought us to the channel of the river, 
when I directed my companion to increase the speed of our skiff, 
determined that the curiosity of no fish should be satisfied, without 
first tasting my gilded spoon. We pulled for half a mile, when the 
river wound suddenly round an island, which presented a bold shore, 
from the rushing of the river's current. The tall forest trees extended 
to the very brink of the river, over which they hung, throwing a deep 
shadow on the water. This quiet spot looked as though it might be 
an attractive one for some solitary fish, and we accordingly took a 
sweep around the foot of the island. — Scarcely had we entered the 
deep shade spoken of, when I felt a tug at my line, which was so strong 
that I supposed my hook had come in contact with a floating log or 
fallen tree. My companion backed water with his oars to relieve my 
hook, when another violent pull at my line convinced me that it was 
no log, but some living creature of great weight. My line was already 
out its full length of 150 feet; no alternative was therefore left but 
to give my fish more line by rowing after him. 

This we did for a few minutes, when I began to pull in the slack of 
my line, some fifty feet or more^ when I felt my fish. The check 



136 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

was no sooner felt by liim than lie started forward with a Telocity 
scarcely conceivable in the water^ bringing my line taut, and the next 
moment our skiff was moving off stern foremost towards the river's 
channel. We soon perceived that our fish had turned his head up 
stream, and as the water was deep, there was no danger of his coming 
in contact with weeds or protruding rocks. We therefore allowed him 
to tow us for about five minutes, when he stopped. Then quickly 
backing water with our oars, and taking in our line, we carefully laid 
it over the skiff's side, until we had approached within twenty feet of 
our fish. I then gave him another check, which probably turned his 
head, for he again darted off in a contrary direction down stream. We 
pulled our skiff in the same direction as fast as possible to give the 
fish a good run before checking him again, but he soon had the line 
out its full length, and was again towing our skiff after him with more 
rapidity than before. This did not last long, however, for I then took 
the line and hauled towards him to lessen our distance. He made 
another slap, when I managed to keep my line taut, and with our oars 
moved towards him. Our victim now lay on the surface of the water 
with his belly upward, apparently exhausted, when we found him to 
be a maskinonge, between five and eight feet in length. We had no 
sooner got him alongside than he gave a slap with his tail and again 
darted off the whole length of the line, taking us once more in tow. 
His run was now short, and it was evident he was getting tired of the 
business. Again the line slacked and we drew the skiff up to the 
spot where he lay turned up on his back. 

He now seemed so far gone that I thought we might draw him into 
our skiff, so I reached out my gaff and hooked him under the jaw, 
while my companion passed his oar under him. In this way we con- 
trived to raise him over the gunwale of the skiff, when he slid to its 
bottom. I then placed my foot back of his head to hold him down, 
in order to disengage my hook, which passed through his upper jaw. 
No sooner had I attempted this than he began to flap about, compelling 
us to give him room to avoid his immense jaws. Every moment 
seemed to increase his strength, when my companion seized an oar in 
order to dispatch him, while I took out my knife for the same purpose. 
The first blow with the oar had only the effect to awaken our fish, 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 137 

which taking another and more powerful somerset, threw himself over 
the gunwale of our skiff, which was but a few inches above the water, 
and with a plunge disappeared in the deep water at our side. We had 
scarcely recovered from our surprise, when I found my line drawn out 
again to its full length, save a few tangles and twists, which had got 
into it in the struggle between us and our fish. We determined to 
trifle no longer with the fellow, with our small skiff, but to make for 
the shore and there land him. A small island, a short distance from 
us, seemed to present a convenient place, and here without further 
ceremony we pulled, towing our fish after us. I leaped into the water 
about ten feet from the shore, and tugged away at my victim, who 
floated like a log upon the water, while my companion stood by with 
an oar to make the capture more sure this time. In this way we landed 
him in safety just one hour and a quarter after he was first hooked. 
This maskinonge weighed 49 pounds, and had within him a pike of 
three pounds weight, a chub, partially decomposed, of four pounds, and 
a perch of one and a half pounds, which appeared to have been but 
recently swallowed; yet this fish's appetite was not satisfied, and he 
lost his life in grasping at a glittering bauble. Any person who has 
ever killed a pike of ten pounds or upwards, can readily imagine the 
strength of one five times its weight. 

The great strength of these fish was shown in a sporting adventure 
which happened to a friend of mine when out a few evenings since, 
spearing by torch light. The person alluded to had never before tried 
his hand with the spear, although he was a skillful angler. On this 
occasion he had killed several fish, which he secured without trouble. 
He was then in about six or eight feet of water, when he discovered 
a large fi^h, either a very large pike or maskinonge. He planted him- 
self with one foot below the flaming torch, the other a little behind, 
when he plunged his spear into the huge fish that lay so quietly before 
him; but whether he was so deceived in the depth of the water, or 
whether he had not braced himself properly in the boat is not known, 
at any rate he struck the fish, which darted off like lightning, taking 
the spear with him, as well as him who threw it. For the gentle- 
man, probably deceived by the depth of the water, had reached forward 
too far and thereby lost his balance. So over he went head foremost, 

12* 



138 KEOOKDS OF A TOURIST. 

holding on to the spear. But ho was satisfied without following the 
fish further^ which escaped with the long spear, neither of which could 
be again seen. The gentleman made the best of his way into the 
skilf. Two days after a large maskinonge floated ashore several miles 
below the spot where the event took place^ with the spear still clinging 
to hini; just before the dorsal fin. 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 139 



PLANTATION CUSTOMS. 

We profess to be neither a defender nor an advocate of slavery, but 
circumstances having brought us into frequent communication with the 
colored population of the Southern States, we have the satisfaction of 
knowing that our opinions, concerning their condition, whether correct 
or not, are the result of personal observation. We do indeed consider 
the institution as an evil, but we consider the fanaticism of the North to 
be a much greater evil. By birth and education are we a Northern man, 
and we willingly acknowledge that we started upon oui' first journey 
through the Southern States, harboring in our breast an unreasonable 
number of prejudices against the institution already mentioned. The 
tables, however, are now completely turned. Aside from the abstract 
idea which has ever and will ever trouble us, we have seen but little to 
mourn over and regret, but rather observed much, as touching the hap- 
piness of the negro and especially his customs, which we cannot but 
commend and admire. Instead of commenting upon these customs in 
a general manner, we propose to give an idea of them by describing 
two specimens — the negro manner of spending the Christmas Holidays, 
and the prominent features of one of their Corn Huskings. 

The scene of our first description is a plantation in the interior of 
South Carolina. Within hailing distance of the planter's mansion is 
a collection of picturesque cabins, where are domiciled his negroes, 
numbering in all about one hundred souls. It is early morning and 
the day before Christmas. The slaves have obtained their accustomed 
furlough, which is to last until the close of the year, and they are now 
on the point of carrying to the market of some neighboring town the 
products they may have obtained from their allotted plots of ground 
during the bygone season. All the means of conveyance belonging 
to the plantation have been placed at their disposal, and the day has 
arrived when they are to receive in hard money, or merchandise, the 



140 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

fruit of tlieir own iudustry^ irrespective of tlieir obligations to their 
masters. As a matter of course, the excitement among them is un- 
usual, and is participated in by all — men, women, and children. All 
things being ready, the sable fraternity are upon the move, and as they 
enter upon a road winding through a succession of picturesque woods, 
we will glance at some" of the characters belonging to the cavalcade. 
The leader thereof is probably the most industrious and frugal of the 
whole brotherhood, and he is taking to market, in a double wagon 
drawn by two horses, some two or three bales of cotton, which he will 
dispose of for one hundred and fifty dollars. The next vehicle is also 
a wagon, and in it are two or three old women, who have under their 
especial protection an assortment of poultry which it is their intention 
to exchange with the village merchant for any little conveniences that 
they may need, or any fancy articles that they may desire. Directly 
behind these we have a noisy party of girls and boys, who are footing 
their way to market more for the frolic or freedom of the thing than 
any desire to obtain money, albeit we doubt not but some of the boys 
may have stowed away in one of the wagons an occasional fox or 
coon skin which have accidentally come into their possession by means 
of their cunningly devised traps. In another wagon, drawn by a pair 
of mules, we notice a load of miscellaneous articles, including a supply 
of rudely wrought agricultural implements, a few bags of corn and 
other grain, and a neatly dressed hog, with his hoofs pointing to the 
sky. We now have a venerable negro, mounted upon an equally 
venerable horse, his only saddle consisting of a large bag of choice 
seeds, which he has been permitted to glean from his master's fields at 
the end of the harvest. And coming up in the rear, is the excessively 
miscellaneous portion of the procession, who ramble along, so far as 
their appearance is concerned, somewhat after the manner of a party 
of bedlamites, but as joyous and light-hearted as if they were the 
lords instead of the serfs of creation. And so much for the appear- 
ance of our friends on their way to market. 

The thousand and one incidents which occur at the town, interesting 
and unique as they are, we will leave to the imagination of our read- 
ers. Towards the close of the day the party return to their cabins 
upon the plantation, and albeit some of the more indiscreet may have 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 141 

imbibed an undue quantity of the intoxicating beverage, the majority 
of them are as circumspect in their deportment as could be expected. 
And then, on their arrival home, commences the long-anticipated frolic 
of Christmas Eve. The banjos and fiddles are brought forth, and de- 
voting themselves most heartily to the pleasures of dancing, singing, 
and comparing notes as to the acquisitions made during the day, the 
hours of night are soon numbered, and the revelry is only concluded 
by the approach of day. 

Two hours after sunrise on Christmas morning the sable fraternity 
are all out of their beds and moving about with considerable activity, 
considering their loss of sleep, and a new order of things is about to 
occur. The house servants, and such of the field hands as think their 
services may be needed, place themselves in the way of the master and 
mistress of the plantation, and cheerfully perform any necessary work 
which may be allotted to them. This done, they return to their cabins, 
and plan the various means of enjoying themselves. Those old women, 
and others who are religiously disposed, jump into a wagon and drive 
to some neighboring church to hear the story of the Saviour. Others, 
who have relatives belonging to another plantation, start oif upon 
a friendly visitation. Some, who have a passion for shooting, and 
have either borrowed or purchased the necessary fusees, depart upon a 
vagabondizing excursion into the woods; while others, who are particu- 
larly covetous, and have already experienced the satisfaction of owning a 
little property, remain about the premises for the purpose of accom- 
plishing some newly-conceived scheme, which will most likely result 
at no distant day in his purchasing his freedom. • As Christmas is passed, 
so are the remaining days of the week, an arriingement having been made 
among the negroes, that a portion of them should take turns with 
another portion, so that the necessary labor of the plantation might 
not be neglected. At the commencement of the year, the regular 
order of business is resumed upon the plantation, and so continues with 
occasional interruption until another Christmas arrives, to the entire 
satisfaction, both of master and slave. 

The rural custom denominated corn hushing or com sliuching is pecu- 
liar to the Southern States. It occurs at night, in the autumn of the 
year, is participated in by negroes alone, and has for its main object 



142 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

the husking and the gathering into barns of the yellow maize or corn. 
And the locality of our present description is a plantation in the State of 
Greorgia. 

Intelligence having previously been circulated throughout the dis- 
trict^ that a husking is to occur on a certain nighty at a certain planta- 
tion, the first step, as a matter of course, is to prepare for the contem- 
plated meeting. The corn yielded by the present harvest is hauled 
in from the surrounding fields, and deposited in huge heaps, immedi- 
diately around the crib or barn into which it is eventually to be depo- 
sited. The roof of the crib having been built so as to be easily removed, 
and for the purpose of allowing the corn to be thrown into the building 
from a considerable distance, it is accordingly transferred to some out-of- 
the-way place, there to remain until reappropriated to its legitimate use 
after the husking is ended. The next step is to bring together at conve- 
nient points around the barn and the stacks of corn, huge quantities of 
light wood, which is to be employed for the several purposes of tempering 
the night air, affording necessary light, and rendering the approaching 
scene as cheerful as possible. And while all these preparations are 
being made by the men, others of quite as much importance are occu- 
pying the attention of all the women belonging to the plantation, whose 
business it is to prepare the feast which necessarily follows the actual 
business of husking ; while the children are probably spending their 
time in clearing away the rubbish from a level spot of ground in the 
vicinity of the bonfires, where it is more than probable we may yet have 
the pleasure of witnessing a negro dance. 

Night has settled upon the world, and the whole space enclosed by 
the planter's mansion and his almost innumerable outhouses, is filled 
with a hum of talking and laughing voices— the loud talking and the 
hoarse laughing of perhaps two hundred negroes, exclusive of woman 
and children. The torch is now applied to the piles of dry wood, and 
by the brilliant light of the several fires the huskers move to their 
allotted places around the corn house and seat themselves upon the 
ground. They are divided into what might be termed four divisions 
(occupying or flanking the several sides of the house), each one of 
which is '' headecV by one of the smartest men in the company, whose 
province it is not only to superintend his division, and with the assist- 
ance of several boys to throw the corn, as it is husked^ into the crib, 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 143 

but to take the lead in the singing which, among the blacks, invariably, 
and we believe necessarily, accompanies the business of husking corn. 
All things being ready, a signal is given, and the whole party fall to 
work as if their very lives depended upon their handling a specified 
quantity of the white and yellow grain. At the same instant com- 
mences a mingled sound of shouting and singing voices, which pre- 
sently swell into a loud and truly harmonious chorus, and the husking 
scene is in its prime. The very fires seem elated with the singular 
but interesting prospect which they illumine, and shoot their broad 
sheets of flame high into the air. Song follows song, in quick succes- 
sion, and in every direction piles of beautiful corn seem to spring out 
of the earth as if by magic, and with the quickness of magic are trans- 
ferred into the great receptacle, Avhich is itself rapidly becoming filled. 
Rude indeed are the songs they sing, but harmonious and plaintive. 
The words are improvised and the ideas are simple, but there is inva- 
riably a pathos and harmony in the chorus which fails not to delight 
the ear. Amusing stories are occasionally told, and then resoundeth 
far over the quiet fields sleeping in moonlight, even as did the songs, 
boisterous peals of laughter. One, two, three, and perhaps four hours 
have elapsed, and it is now midnight, when the announcement is made 
by some patriarch of the company that the corn is all husked, and the 
crib is nearly full. One more song is called for, during the singing 
of which the roof is replaced upon the corn house, and after congre- 
gating around the fires, partly with a view of comparing notes as to 
the amount of labor performed, but more especially for the purpose of 
drying the sweat from their sable faces, the entire party of buskers 
move to the spacious kitchen attached to the planter's mansion. 

And here an entirely new scene presents itself to our view. Board 
tables have been spread in every available corner, and even in the 
more sheltered portions of the adjoining yard, and everywhere is dis- 
played a most sumptuous entertainment, consisting not only of the 
substantials of life, strangely served up in the form of a thick soup, 
but abounding even in luxuries. Good whisky and perhaps peach 
brandy is supplied in reasonable quantities, and the women, having 
finished their allotted duties, now mingle with the men, and the feast- 
ing company presents as merry and happy a picture of rural life as 



144 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

can well be imagined. Each negro devotes himself to his particular 
mess, and somewhat after the manner of the aborigines. Jokes of 
questionable elegance and delicacy are uttered to a considerable ex- 
tent, and many compliments paid to the " UUral and maynan'mous 
massa oh dis planiation.^' On such occasions, as might not be sup- 
posed, acts of decided impropriety but seldom occur, and it is not 
often that a sufficient quantity of spirit is imbibed, either materially to 
injure the health or produce intoxication. In this particular, even 
the ^^ down-trodden^^ slaves, as they are called, may often set a worthy 
example for the imitation of those who occupy a more elevated rank 
in society. 

We now come to describe the concluding scene of the corn-husking 
entertainment, which consists of a dance upon the spot cleared away 
by the boys in the vicinity of the late fires, which are replenished 
for further use. The scraping of fiddles and the thumping of 
banjos having been heard above the clatter of spoons, soup-plates, and 
gourds, at the various supper tables, a new stampede takes place, and 
the musicians are hurried ofi" to the dancing ground, as if to trip the 
light fantastic toe were deemed the climax of earthly happiness. 
" On with the dance, let joy be unconfined." But there seemeth no 
need of the poet's advice on the present occasion, for the sable con- 
gregation now assembled, seem animated with an almost frantic 
excitement. The dance, as a matter of course, is the famous ^^ Vir- 
ginia Reel,'' and at least a hundred individuals have formed them- 
selves in their proper places. No sooner do the instruments attain 
the necessary pitch, than the head couples dash into the arena, now 
slowly and disdainfully, now swiftly and ferociously, and now per- 
forming the douhle shuffle or the pigeon-wing. Anon they come to a 
stand, while others follow, and go through the same fantastic perform- 
ances, with the addition perhaps of an occasional leap or whirl. 
The excitement is becoming more intense than ever, and it is evident 
that those whose business it is to stand still, are actually dancing in 
their shoes. Louder than ever wails the music — order is followed by 
confusion — and in the madness of the dance there is no method. 
The brilliant watch-fires cast a ruddy glow upon the faces of the 
dancers, and when, as it sometimes happens, an individual chances 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 145 

to wander without the ch-cle, his leaping and uncouth figure pictured 
against the sky, resembles more the form of a lost spirit than a human 
being. Music, dancing, shouting, leaping, and laughing, with other 
indescribable matters, are mingled together in a most unique manner, 
constituting a spectacle only equaled by the midnight dances of 
painted savages. For hours does this frolic continue, and perhaps is 
only brought to an end by the crowing of a cock, or the first glimpse 
over the eastern hills, of the coming day. And then comes the 
breaking up of the assembly, so that by the usual breakfast hour, the 
negroes have reached the several plantations to which they belong, 
and after spending rather an idle day, are ready for any other 
liuakiny to which they may be invited, and which their masters will 
permit them to attend. 



18 



146 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 



FISHING IN GENERAL. 

" We have, indeed, often thought that angliriij; alone offers to man the degree of 
half bnsines?, half idleness, which the fair sex find in their needle-work or 
knitting, wliich, employing the hands, leaves the mind at liberty, and ocenpying 
the attention, so far as is necessary to remove the painful sense of a vacuity, 
yet yields room for contemplation, whether upon things heavenly or earthly, 
cheerful or melancholy." Sin Walter Scott. 

In the preceding articles wc liave given the public the substance 
of our experience in regard to our five favorite fish, the salmon, trout, 
pike, rock, and black basse. On the present occasion we purpose to 
embody within the limits of a single article, our stock of information 
upon the remaining fish of the United States, which properly come 
under the jurisdiction of the angler. We shall proceed in our re- 
marks after the manner of the dictionary-makers, and shall take up 
each variety without any regard to their order, but as they may hap- 
pen to come into our mind. 

The Perch. — "With two members of this family alone are we person- 
ally acquainted, viz. the yellow perch and the white perch. The 
first is a beautiful fish, and found in nearly all the waters of the North- 
ern and Middle States, and probably as well known throughout the 
world as any of the finny tribes. Its predominating color is yellow ; 
it has an elegant form, is a bold biter, varies in weight from four 
ounces to a pound (although occasionally found in New England 
weighing two pounds) ; has a dry and sweet flesh, but ill adapted to 
satisfy the cravings of a hungry man on account of its boues, which 
are particularly numerous, hard, and pointed. They generally swim 
about in schools, and yet at the same time are not at all distinguished 
for their intelligence, being invariably allured to destruction by the 
most bungling anglers, and the more common kinds of bait. They 
spawn in the autumn, and recover^ so as to be in fine condition, early in 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 147 

the spring. They delight in clear rivers or lakes, with pebbly bottoms, 
though sometimes found on sandy or clayey soils. They love a mo- 
derately deep water, and frequent holes at the mouth of small streams 
or the hollows under the banks. With regard to the white perch we 
have only to say that it is well described by its name, is a migratory 
fish, found in nearly all the rivers of the Atlantic coast, from Boston 
to Norfolk ; and they weigh from six ounces to one pound, are in 
season during the spring and summer, are capital as an article of food, 
and afford the entire brotherhood of anglers an abundance of sport. 
As touching the name of the fish now before us, we desire to chronicle 
our opinion respecting an important instance in which it has been 
misapplied. Many years ago, while reading the remarkable and 
intensely interesting work of Audubon on the birds of America, we 
chanced upon the description of a fish, found in the Ohio, to which he 
gave the name of white perch. Subsequently to that period, while 
sojourning in the city of Cincinnati, we happened to remember Mr. 
Audubon's description, and one morning visited the market for the 
purpose of examining the fish. We found them very abundant, and 
were informed that they commanded a high price. On examining the 
fish, however, in view of certain doubts that we had previously enter- 
tained (for we knew that the white perch of the book was a native of 
salt water), we found it to be not a legitimate white perch, but simply 
the fish known on Lake Erie as the fresh water sheeps-head. But 
this misapplication of the term perch is not peculiar to the residents 
on the Ohio, for we know that, throughout the Southern States where 
the black basse is found, it is universally called the black perch ; and 
that in the vicinity of Boston and Nahant the miserable little fish 
called the Conner is there designated as a black perch. That there 
are several varieties of the real perch besides those which we have 
mentioned we do not deny, but we feel confident that the above cor- 
rection cannot be refuted. 

The Maskalunge and Pickerel. — Both of these fish are peculiar to 
the United States, and especially to the G-reat Lakes, and the waters 
of the St. Lawrence and Mississippi. The former belongs unquestion- 
ably to the pike family, although commonly weighing from twenty to 
forty poundS; while many people affirm that it is only an overgrown 



148 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

pike. They are valued as an article of food^ and hy those who are 
fond of killing the most savage of game at the expense of much labor, 
they are highly appreciated. The best and about the only valuable 
account of this fish that we have ever seen, was written by Greorge W. 
Clinton, Esq., and published in the Bufililo Commercial Advertiser. 
As to the fish which we call the pickerel, we have to say that it occu- • 
pies a position somewhere between the trout and perch ; that it is a 
favorite with the anglers of Lake Champlain, Lake Erie, and Lake 
Michigan, and with those also who practice the gentle art along the 
borders of the Ohio and the Tennessee. It is an active fish, of a 
roundish form, with large mouth and sharp teeth, and covered with 
small scales, the predominating colors being a dark green and yellow- 
ish white. The name which it bears is the one so generally applied, 
but erroneously, to the legitimate pike. It is also the same fish known 
in the Southwest as the salmon, but as unlike the peerless creature of 
the far North as a gray wolf is unlike a deer. As is the case with the 
maskalunge, the pickerel is among the first of the finny tribes that 
run up our Western rivers early in the spring ; and in the waters of 
Lake Champlain and the St. Lawrence they are found herding with 
the yellow perch, and we believe that in some districts they are con- 
sidered as belonging to the perch family. 

The Catfish. — This fish is distinguished for its many deformities, 
and is a great favorite with all persons who have a fancy for muddy 
waters. In the Mississippi they are frequently taken weighing up- 
wards of one hundred pounds; and while they are taken in all the 
tributaries of that river, it has been ascertained that they decrease in 
size as you ascend towards the north. They are also found in the 
tributaries of Lake Erie. They are taken with any kind of bait; and 
as they are very strong the best of tackle is invariably necessary. 
This fish is also found in many of the lakes of New England, where 
they seldom weigh more than two pounds, being there known as the 
horn or bull pout, owing to a peculiar pictorial thorn with which they 
are adorned. Their flesh, though not particularly sweet, is said to be 
easily digested, and they are often sought for by people with weak 
stomachs. But it has always seemed to us that it required a very 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 149 

poiverful stomacli to eat a piece from one of the mammoths of the 
Western waters. 

As to the remaining fresh-water fish of the country, we will content 
ourself by merely mentioning the names of those which are known to 
our anglers, to wit : the chub, dace, white basse, sunfish, roach, 
bream, and rock basse. The fish called in Virginia and Maryland the 
fall fish is identical with the dace. In the waters of the West the 
mullet, fresh water sheepshead, and sucker, are found in immense 
numbers, but they are all exceedingly poor eating, and as sporting 
fish are of no account. The sturgeon, we believe, is found almost 
everywhere, and known to almost everybody. 

There is a fish found in Florida which we have never seen, but 
which, from all the descriptions that we have heard, belongs either to 
the trout or basse families. It abounds in all the rivers, lakes and 
springs of this State, is a bold biter, reaches the weight of fifteen 
pounds, has a white and sweet flesh, and is taken in very much the 
manner employed by northern anglers in capturing the pike, and 
with similar artificial baits. 

We now come to our favorites of the ocean and tide-water rivers ; 
and the first fish that we mention is the hlach fish, or tautog, as it was 
called by the Mohegan Indians. It is a stationary inhabitant of the 
salt water, and usually found upon reefs and along rocky shores. It 
is taken all along the Atlantic coast between New York and Boston, 
but it has been known north of Cape Cod only within a few years ; 
its legitimate home is Long Island Sound. It is an active, bold, 
strong, and tough fish, highly esteemed as an article of food, and, like 
the cod, is brought to the principal markets in floating cars, in which 
confinement they are said to fatten. They are by no means a hand- 
some fish, and their scales are so adhesive as to be taken ofi" only with 
the skin. They are a summer fish, being taken as early as April, and 
no later than October. A three-pounder is considered a good fish, but 
we have often taken them weighing ten pounds, and have seen them 
weighing fifteen pounds. They are generally taken with the hand 
line, and no better bait can be employed than the lobster or soft crab. 

The Sheepshead. — This is a thick set but rather handsome fish, 
and, for the sweetness of its flesh, highly esteemed. They are seldom 

13* 



150 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

seen in the New York market, Ibut very common in the Charleston 
and Mobile markets, from which we infer that they are partial to 
southern waters. They vary in weight from three pounds to fourteen ; 
live exclusively upon shell fish, and invariably command a high price. 
They are popular with the anglers, for they swim in shoals and are 
captured with but little trouble. 

The Blue Fish. — The name of this glorious fish reminds us of the 
ground swell, and sends through our whole frame a thrill of pleasure. 
They are a species of mackerel, attaining in certain places the weight 
of a dozen pounds. They swim in shoals, and are taken with a trolling 
line and an ivory squid. Our favorite mode for taking them has ever 
been from a small boat with a hand line, though many people prefer 
taking them from a sailboat when running before a breeze. They are 
quite as active a fish as we have ever seen, and the strength of their 
jaws is so great that we have known them to bite off a man's finger. 
When fresh and fat we consider them quite as delicate as the real 
mackerel, and much better than the black fish. They are found on 
the sea coast as far south as Norfolk (where they are called tailors), 
but they are particularly abundant along the shores of Connecticut 
and Rhode Island. In some places we have often found them so nu- 
merous that we have seen a dozen of them darting after our squid at " 
the same instant. They are in season during the whole of summer 
and autumn. 

Another capital fish that we have caught " all along shore" between 
New York and Cape Cod, is the loeah fish, or squeteague. It never 
comes into the fresh water rivers, and usually makes its appearance 
about harvest time. Its habits are similar to those of the striped 
basse, and in appearance it closely resembles the ciscovet, of Lake 
Superior. They commonly weigh from three to five pounds, though 
they have been taken weighing" nearly ten. They are bold biters, 
and highly esteemed for their sweetness. 

With regard to the remaining fish found on our seaboard we are 
disposed to be quite brief. The mackerel we esteem, and have had 
rare sport in taking them, but we look upon them as the exclusive 
property of our merchants. The halibut we admire, but fear, for he 
reminds us of one of the most fiitiguing piscatorial adventures we ever 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. ~ 151 

experienced, when we hooked a thirty pounder in the Atlantic, one 
hundred miles off Nantucket. As to the cod, we have only to say 
that we have caught them off Nahant by the hundred, and never wish 
to catch any more ; like the mackerel, we consider them the exclusive 
property of the mercantile fraternity. With the king fish and drum 
we are wholly unacquainted. The torn cod and conner or Hue perch 
we despise, and our antipathy to snakes has always caused us to 
avoid the eel. Of the sea basse and paugee, if we knew what to say, 
we would indite a long paragraph, for we esteem them both. As to 
the shad and sea sturgeon, we shall dismiss them with an angler's 
scorn, for they know not what it is to take the hook. And now that 
we have reached the bottom of our last page (devoted to the finny 
tribes), we are reminded of the very peculiar but sweet and valuable 
fish, which are ever found only at the bottom of the sea — i\\Q flounder 
and flatfish. Many a time and oft have we taken them both with 
the hook and spear, and we can pay them no higher compliment than 
by mentioning the fact that they are particular favorites with the dis- 
tinguished painter, William S. Mount, E?q., of Long Island. 



152 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 



OUR MASTER IN LANDSCAPE. 

"His departure has left a vacuity which amazes and alarms us. It is as if 
the voyager on the Hudson were to look to the great range of the Catskiils, at 
the foot of which Cole, with a reverential fondness, had fixed his abode, and 
were to see that the grandest of its summits had disappeared, had sunk into the 
plain from our sight. I might use a bolder similitude ; it is as if we were to 
look over the heavens on a starlight evening and find that one of the greater 
planets, Hesperus or Jupiter, had been blotted from the sky." 

FuNEKAL Oration by William Cullen Brtant. 

Upon the romantic life of the greatest of American landscape 
painters it is not our province to discourse^ for that task has been as- 
signed to a gifted poet and friend of the departed — the Reverend Louis 
L. Noble ; — nor do we purpose to expatiate upon his beautiful cha- 
racter as a man; and his genius as an artist; for that labor of love has 
already been accomplished by the eminent poet from whom we have 
borrowed our motto. The only idea that we have in view, is simply 
to describe the truly Epic productions of the late Thomas Cole (in 
whose studio, which looked out upon the Catskill Mountains, we have 
spent many pleasant hours), for the edification of those of our readers 
who have never had an opportunity of examining them. 

In the first place, then, we will turn our attention to the series of 
five pictures,, entitled ^^The Course of Emjnre.'^ This work is an 
epitome of the life of man, and is conceived and executed in a manner 
which must convince the beholder that the artist possessed many of 
the attributes of the philosopher, the poet, and the Christian. 

In the first picture we have a perfectly wild scene of rocks, mount- 
ains, woods, and a bay of the ocean, reposing in the luxuriance of a 
ripe spring. The clouds of night are being dissipated by the beams 
of the rising sun. On the opposite side of the bay rises a lofty pro- 
montory, crowned by a singular, isolated rock, which would ever be a 
conspicuous landmark to the mariner. As the same locality is pre- 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 153 

served in each picture of the series, this rock identifies it, although the 
position of the spectator changes in the several pictures. The chase 
being the most characteristic occupation of savage life, in the fore- 
ground we see an Indian clothed in skins, pursuing a wounded deer, 
which is bounding down a narrow ravine. On a rock, in the middle 
ground, are other Indians, with their dogs surrounding another deer. 
On the bosom of a little river below are a number of canoes passing 
down the stream, while many more are drawn up on the shore. On 
an elevation beyond these is a cluster of wigwams, and a number of 
Indians dancing round a fire. In this picture we have the first ru- 
diments of society. Men are already banded together for mutual aid 
in the chase. In the canoes, huts, and weapons, we perceive that the 
useful arts have commenced, and in the singing, which usually accom- 
panies the dance of savages, we behold the germs of music and poetry. 
The Empire is asserted, to a limited degree, over sea, land, and the 
animal kingdom. 

Ages have passed away, and in the second picture we have the 
Simple or Arcadian State of Society. The time of day is a little be- 
fore noon, and the season early summer. The ^' un tracked and rude'' 
has been tamed and softened. Shepherds are tending their flocks ; a 
solitary ploughman, with his oxen, is turning up the soil; and in the 
rude vessels passing into the haven of a growing village, and in the 
skeleton of a barque building on the shore, we perceive the com- 
mencement of Commerce. From a rude temple on a hill the smoke 
of sacrifice is ascending to the sky, symbolizing the spirit of Religion. 
In the foreground, on the left hand, is seated an old man, who, by de- 
scribing strange figures in the sand, seems to have made some geome- 
trical discovery, demonstrating the infancy of Science. On the right 
hand is a woman with a distafi", about crossing a stone bridge; beside 
her, a boy is drawing on a stone the figure of a man with a sword ; 
and beyond these, ascending the road, a soldier is partly seen. Under 
some noble trees, in the middle distance, are a number of peasants 
dancing to the music of pipe and timbrel. All these things show us 
that society is steadily progressing in its march of usefulness and 
power. 

Ages have again passed away, and in the third picture we have a 



154 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

magnificent city. It is now mid-day, and early autumn. The bay 
is now surrounded by piles of architecture, temples, colonnades, and 
domes. It is a day of rejoicing. The spacious harbor is crowded 
with vessels, war-galleys, ships, and barques, their silken sails glisten- 
ing in the sunshine. Moving over a massive stone bridge, in the fore- 
ground, is a triumphal procession. The conqueror, robed in purple, 
is mounted on a car drawn by an elephant, and surrounded by captives 
and a numerous train of guards and servants, many of them bearing 
pictures and golden treasures. As he is about to pass the triumphal 
arch, beautiful girls strew flowers in his path ; gay festoons of drapery 
hang from the clustered columns ; golden trophies glitter in the sun, 
and incense rises from silver censers. Before a Doric temple, on the 
left, a multitude of white-robed priests are standing on the marble 
steps, while near them a religious ceremony is being performed before 
a number of altars. The statue of Minerva, with a Victory in her 
hand, stands above the building of the Caryatides, on a columned pe- 
destal, near which is a company of musicians, with cymbals, ^^ trum- 
pets also, and shawms." From the lofty portico of a palace, an im- 
perial personage is watching the procession, surrounded by her children, 
attendants, and guards. Nations have been subjugated, man has 
reached the summit of human glory. Wealth, power, knowledge, and 
taste have worked together and accomplished the highest meed of hu- 
man achievement and Empire. 

Another change — and lo ! in the fourth picture, the Vicious State, 
or State of Destruction. Behold the consequences of luxury, in the 
weakened and debased condition of mankind. A savage enemy has 
entered the once proud and happy city ; a fierce tempest is raging ) 
walls and colonnades are lying in the dust, and temples and palaces 
are being consumed by the torch of the incendiary. The fire of ven- 
geance is swallowing up the devoted city. An arch of the bridge 
over which the triumphal procession had before passed, has been bat- 
tered down, and broken pillars, ruins of war-engines, and the tempo- 
rary bridge which had been thrown over, indicate that this has been 
the scene of direst contention. Now there is a terrible conflict on the 
bridge, whose insecurity accelerates the horror of the conflict. Horses, 
and men, and chariots, are precipitated into the raging waves. War- 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 155 

galleys are contending ; others in flames ; and others still, sinking be- 
neath the prow of a superior foe. Smoke and flames are issuing from 
the falling and prostrate edifices; and along the battlements and in the 
blocked-up streets the conflict is dreadful indeed. The foreground is 
strewed with the bodies of the dead and dying. Some have flilleu 
into the basin of a fountain, tinging the water with blood. One fe- 
male is sitting in mute despair over the dead body of her son ; another 
leaping over a battlement, to escape the grasp of a ruffian soldier; and 
other soldiers drag a woman by the hair down the steps, that form the 
pedestal of a mutilated colossal statue, whose shattered head lies on 
the pavement below. A barbarous enemy has conquered the city; 
Carnage and Destruction have asserted their frightful Empire. 

The last and most impressive picture of this series is the scene of 
Desolation. The sun has just departed, and the moon is ascending 
the twilight sky over the ocean, near the place where the sun rose in 
the first picture. The shades of evening are gradually stealing over 
the shattered and ivy-grown ruins of that once great city. A lonely 
column rises in the foreground, on whose capital a solitary heron has 
built her nest, and at the foot of it her mate is standing in the water, 
both of them apparently conscious of being a living mockery. The 
Doric temple and triumphal bridge may still be identified among the 
ruins, which are laved by the waters of the tranquil sea. But though 
man and his works have perished, the steep promontory with its iso- 
lated rock, still rears itself against the sky, unmoved, unchanged. 
Time has consumed the works of man, and art is resolving into its 
elemental nature. The gorgeous pageant has passed, the roar of bat- 
tle has ceased, the multitude has mingled with the dust, the Empire 
is extinct. 

The first, second, and last of these paintings are the best of the se- 
ries, not only in the poetry they portray, but in their execution. 
The style is more varied and natural, and has less the appearance of 
paint than many of the artist's later productions. As to the third and 
fourth paintings, the conception of both is exceedingly fine and poet- 
ical, but they are deficient in execution. The architecture is admirably 
done, but the numerous figures which it was necessary to introduce, 
are poorly drawn and arranged ; and there is a feebleness in the effect. 



156 EECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

It would be, perhaps, too much to ask that an artist should be a great 
painter of scenery, and also a master of the human figure. As a whole, 
however, the Course of Empire is a work of art worthy of any nation 
or any painter. These pictures were painted for the late Luman 
Reed, at a cost of eight thousand dollars, but are now the property 
of the New York Gallery, which institution owes its existence to 
Mr. Keed, whose collection of pictures formed the foundation 
thereof. 

The next work to which we would call the attention of our readers 
is called '^The Voyage of Life." It is a series of four pictures, alle- 
gorically portraying the prominent features of man's life, viz : child- 
hood, youth, manhood, and old age. The subject is one of such uni- 
versal interest, that it were almost impossible to treat it in an entirely 
original manner, but no one can deny that the conception of the painter 
displays a high and rare order of poetic power. 

In the first, we behold the dawn of a summer morning. A trans- 
lucent stream is issuing from an unknown source, out of a deep cavern 
in the side of a mountain. Floating gently down the stream, is a 
golden boat, made of the sculptured figures of the Hours, while the 
prow is formed by the present hour holding forth an emblem of Time. 
It is filled with flowers, and on these a little child is seated, tossing 
them with his upraised hands, and smiling with new-born joy, as he 
looks upon the unnumbered beauties and glories of this bright world 
around him -, while a guardian angel is at the helm, with his wings 
lovingly and protectingly extended over the child. Love, purity, and 
beauty emanate like incense from the sky, the earth, and water, so that 
the heart of the gazer seems to forget the world, and lose itself in a 
dream of heaven. 

A few fleeting years are gone, and behold the change ! The Stream 
of Life is widened, and its current strong and irresistible, but it flows 
through a country of surpassing loveliness. The voyager, who is now 
a youth, has taken the helm into his own hands, and the dismissed 
angel stands upon the shore looking at him with '^ a look made of all 
sweet accord," as if he said in his heart, ^^ God be with thee, thought- 
less mortal !" But the youth heeds not his angel, for his eyes are now 
riveted by an airy castle pictured against the sky, dome above dome^ 



EECORDS OF A TOURIST. 157 

reaching to the yerj zenith. The phantom of worldly happiness and 
worldly ambition has absorbed the imagination and eager gaze of the 
wayward voyager, and as he urges his frail bark onward, he dreams not 
of the dangers which may await him in his way. To the boat, only a 
few flowers are now clinging, and on closer observation we perceive 
that the castle in the air, apparently so real, has only a white cloud 
for its foundation, and that ere long the stream makes a sudden turn, 
rushing with the fury of a maddened steed down a terrible ravine. 
The moral of the picture it is needless to elucidate. 

Another change, and lo ! the verge of a cataract and a fearful storm. 
The rudderless bark is just about to plunge into the abyss below, 
while the voyager (now in the prime of manhood) is imploring the 
only aid that can avail him in the trying hour, that of heaven. 
Demoniacal images are holding forth their temptations in the clouds 
around him, but he heeds them not. His confidence in God supports 
him, the previous agony of his soul is dispelled or subdued, by a re- 
flection of immortal light stealing through the storm, and by the smiles 
of his guardian angel, visibly stationed in the far-off sky. 

The Voyage of Life is ended, and our voyager, now white with 
hoary hairs, has reached that point where the waters of time and 
eternity mingle together — a bold conception, which is finely embodied 
by the daring genius of the painter. The hour-glass is gone, and the 
shattered bark is ready to dissolve into the fathomless waters beneath. 
The old man is on his knees, with clasped hands and his eyes turned 
heavenward, for the greenness of earth is forever departed, and a gloom 
is upon the ocean of eternity. But just above the form of our good 
voyager is hovering his angel, who is about to transport him to his 
home ; and, as the eye wanders upward, an infinite host of heavenly 
ministers are seen ascending and descending the cloudy steps which 
lead to the bosom of God. Death is swallowed up in life, the glory of 
heaven has eclipsed that of the earth, and our voyager is safe in the 
haven of eternal rest. And thus endeth the allegory of Human Life. 

With regard to the mechanical execution of these paintings, we con- 
sider them not equal to some of the eiirlier efforts of the same pencil. 
They are deficient in atmosphere, and have too much the appearance 
of paint. The water in the first, second, and third pictures is superior, 
14 



158 KECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

but the perspective and atmosphere in the second are masterly. In 
all of them the figures are very fine, considering the difiiculty of man- 
aging such peculiar characters. In the first we are pleased with the 
simplicity of the composition : in the second, with the variety, there 
being portrayed the elm of England, the plains of Tuscany, the palm 
of tropic climes, the mountains of Switzerland, and the oak of America; 
in the third, with the genius displayed in using the very storm to tell 
a story; and in the fourth, with the management of the shadows, and 
the apparent reality of the light from heaven. These pictures were 
painted for the late Samuel Ward of New York city, and the price 
received for them was six thousand dollars. During the last year, 
however, they were purchased by the American Art Union, and dis- 
tributed among the prizes at their annual lottery in December. 

Duplicates of the above paintings were executed by Cole, and sold 
to a gentleman in Cincinnati in the year 1846. 

The last, and in many respects the most impressive, of Cole's more 
ambitious productions, is a series of five pictures entitled The Cross 
and the World. The designs or studies for these pictures were all 
executed, but owing to the untimely death of the artist, only two out 
of the five were ever finished on a large scale. This series of pictures 
constitutes a Christian poem of a high order, and in describing them, 
we shall employ the language of the artist's friend Noble, who has 
probably studied the entire work more thoroughly than any other man. 
The idea is that two youths enter upon a pilgrimage— one to the 
cross and the other to the world. 

In the first picture the eye of the beholder first strikes the bold 
termination of a chain of mountains, with craggy peaks lost in the 
clouds. 

The same lofty range is seen through the entire series. 

To the left, a straight and narrow path takes its way up a rugged 
gorge, down which there beams a silvery light from a bright cross in 
the sky. The path at first leads off through fields of real flowers, be- 
tokening the early part of the Christian life, neither difficult nor unin- 
viting. In the distance a dark mist, hovering over the track, conceals 
from the advancing wayfarer the real difficulties of his journey, and 
betokens the sorrows which of necessity befall him. To the right, a 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 159 

gracefully windiDg way leads down into a gently undulating and 
pleasant vale. Stretching forward through delightful landscapes, it 
finally fades away, and leaves the eye to wander on to the dim pinna- 
cles and domes of a great city. A golden light falls through an atmo- 
sphere of repose, and lends warmth, softness, and beauty, as well to 
crag and precipice as to the rich valley. By-paths, serpent-like, steal 
up upon the sunny slopes of the mountain, inviting the traveler to 
the enjoyment of the prospect and the coolness of the waterfall. 

Vegetation of unnatural growth, and gorgeous and unreal flowers 
skirt the borders of the Avay. 

At the foot of the mountain stands Evangelist with the open Gos- 
pel. A little in advance are the waters, symbolical of Baptism. 

Two youths, companions in the travel of life, having come to the 
parting of their road, are affectionately and earnestly directed to the 
shining cross. While one, through the power of truth, enters with 
timid steps upon his holy pilgrimage, the other, caught by the enchant- 
ment of the earthly prospect, turns his back upon Evangelist and the 
Cross, and speeds forward upon the pathway of the world. 

In the second picture we have a wild mountain region now opening 
upon the beholder. It is an hour of tempest. Black clouds envelop 
the surrounding summits. A swollen torrent rushes by, and plunges 
into the abyss. The storm, sweeping down through terrific chasms, 
flings aside the angry cataract, and deepens the horror of the scene below. 
The pilgrim, now in the vigor of manhood, pursues his way on the 
edge of a frightful precipice. It is a moment of imminent danger. 
But gleams of light from the shining cross break through the storm, 
and shed fresh brightness along his perilous and narrow path. With 
steadfast look, and renewed courage, the lone traveler holds on his 
heavenly pilgrimage. 

The whole symbolizes the trials of faith. 

In the third picture the beholder looks off upon an expanse of tran- 
quil water. On the right are the gardens of pleasure, where the 
devotees of sensual delights revel in all that satiates and amuses. 
Near a fountain, whose falling waters lull with perpetual murmurs, 
stands a statue of the goddess of Love. An interminable arcade, with 
odorous airs and delicious shade, invites to the quiet depths of a wil- 



160 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

derness of greenery and flowers. A gay throng dances upon the 
yielding turf, around a tree, to the sound of lively music. Near an 
image of Bacchus, a company enjoys a luxurious banquet. 

On the left is the Temple of Mammon, a superb and costly struc- 
ture, surmounted by the wheel of Fortune. Beneath its dome, a curi- 
ously-wrought fountain throws out showers of gold, which is eagerly 
caught up by the votaries below. 

From the great censers, rising here and there above the heads of 
the multitude, clouds of incense roll up and wreath the columns of the 
temple — a grateful odor to the God. The trees and shrubbery of the 
adjacent grounds are laden with golden fruit. 

Far distant, in the middle of the picture, a vision of earthly power and 
glory rises upon the view. Splendid trophies of conquest adorn the 
imposing gateway ; suits of armor, gorgeous banners, and the victor's 
wreath. Colonnades and piles of architecture stretch away in the vast 
perspective. At the summit of a lofty flight of steps stand conspic- 
uous the throne and the sceptre. Suspended in the air, at the highest 
point of human reach, is that glittering symbol of royalty, the crown. 
Between the beholder and this grand spectacle are the armies in con- 
flict, and a city in flames, indicating that the path to glory lies through 
ruin and the battle-field. To the contemplation of this alluring scene 
the Pilgrim of the World, now in the morning of manhood, is intro- 
duced. Which of the fascinating objects before him is the one of his 
choice, is left to the imagination of the spectator. The picture sym- 
bolizes the pleasure, the fortune, and the glory of the world. 

In the fourth picture, the pilgrim, now an old man on the verge of 
existence, catches a first view of the boundless and eternal. The tem- 
pests of life are behind him ; the world is beneath his feet. Its rocky 
pinnacles, just rising through the gloom, reach not up into his 
brightness ; its sudden mists, pausing in the dark obscurity, ascend no 
more into his serene atmosphere. He looks out upon the infinite. 
Clouds — embodiments of glory, threading immensity in countless 
lines, rolling up from everlasting depths — carry the vision forward 
toward the unapproachable light. The Cross, now fully revealed, 
pours its efl"ulgence over the illimitable scene. Angels from the 
presence, with palm and crown of immortality, appear in the dis- 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 161 

tance, and advance to meet him. Lost in rapture at tlie sight, th,e 
pilgrim drops his staff, and with uplifted hands, sinks upon his knees. 

In the last picture, desolate and broken, the pilgrim, descending a 
gloomy vale, pauses at last on the horrid brink that overhangs the 
outer darkness. Columns of the Temple of Mammon crumble ; trees 
of the gardens of pleasure moulder on his path. Gold is as value- 
less as the dust with which it mingles. The phantom of glory — a 
baseless, hollow fabric — flits under the wing of death to vanish in a 
dark eternity. Demon forms are gathering around him. Horror- 
struck, the pilgrim lets fall his staff, and turns in despair to the long- 
neglected and forgotten Cross. Veiled in melancholy night, behind a 
peak of the mountain, it is lost to his view forever. 

The above pictures are in the possession of the artist's family. We did 
think of describing at length all the imaginative productions of our 
great master in landscape, but upon further reflection we have con- 
cluded merely to record their titles, by way of giving our readers an 
idea of the versatility of Cole's genius. They are as follows: — The 
Departure and Return, which is a poetical representation of the Feud- 
al Times, The Cross in the Wilderness, II Penseroso, V Allegro, The 
Past and Present, The Architect's Dream, Dream of Arcadia, The 
Expulsion of Adam and Eve, and Prometheus Bound. As the last 
mentioned picture is owned in England, and is unquestionably one of 
the wildest and most splendid efforts of the painter's pencil, we cannot 
refrain from a brief description. The scene represented is among the 
snow-covered peaks of a savage mountain land, and to the loftiest 
peak of all, is chained the iDcing who gives the picture a name. Im- 
mediately in the foreground, is a pile of rocks and broken trees, which 
give a fine effect to the distant landscape, while, just above this fore- 
ground, is a solitary vulture slowly ascending to the upper air, to feast 
upon its victim. The idea of leaving the devouring scene to the ima- 
gination, could only have been conceived by the mind of the most ac- 
complished artist. The time represented is early morning—and the 
cold blue ocean of the sky is studded with one brilliant star, which 
represents Jupiter, by whose order Prometheus was chained to the 
everlasting rock. 

14* 



162 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

This is one of the most truly sublime pictures we have ever seen, 
and possesses all the qualities which constitute an epic production. 
The unity of the design is admirable — one figure, one prominent 
mountain, a cloudless sky, one lonely star, one representative of the 
feathery tribes, and one cluster of rocks for the foreground — and it is 
also completely covered with an atmosphere which gives every object 
before us a dreamy appearance. In point of execution we cannot 
possibly find a fault with this glorious picture, and we do not believe 
that the idea of the poet was ever better illustrated by any landscape 
painter. 

With regard to the actual views and other less ambitious produc- 
tions of Cole, we can only say that the entire number might be esti- 
mated at about one hundred. The majority of them are illustrative 
of European scenery, but of those which are truly American, it may 
be said that they give a more correct and comprehensive idea of our 
glorious scenery, than do the productions of any other American artist. 
In looking upon his better pictures of American scenery we forget the 
pent-up city, and our hearts flutter with a joy allied to that which we 
may suppose animates the woodland bird, when listening in its soli- 
tude to the hum of the wilderness. Perpetual freedom, perpetual and 
unalloyed happiness, seem to breathe from every object which he por- 
trays, and as the eye wanders along the mountain declivities, or mounts 
still farther up on the chariot-looking clouds, as we peer into the trans- 
lucent waters of his lakes and streams, or witness the solemn grandeur 
and gloom of his forests, we cannot but wonder at the marvelous 
power of genius. The style of our artist is bold and masterly. While 
he did not condescend to delineate every leaf and sprig which may be 
found in nature, yet he gave you the spirit of the scene. To do this 
is the province of genius, and an attainment beyond the reach of mere 
talent. The productions of Cole appeal to the intellect more than to 
the heart, and we should imagine that Milton was his favorite poet. 
He loved the uncommon efforts in nature, and was constantly giving 
birth to new ideas. He had a passion for the wild and tempestuous, 
and possessed an imagination of the highest order. He was also a 
lover of the beautiful, and occasionally executed a picture full of quiet 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 163 

summer-like sentiment : but his joy was to depict the scenery of our 
mountain land, when clothed in the rich garniture of autumn. He 
was the originator of a new style, and is now a most worthy member 
of that famous brotherhood of immortals whom we remember by the 
names of Lorraine, Poussin, Rosa, Wilson, and Grainsborough. 

The name of Cole is one which his countrymen should not willingly 
let die. A man of fine, exalted genius, by his pencil he has accom- 
plished much good, not only to his chosen art, by becoming one of its 
masters, but eminently so in a moral point of view. And this re- 
minds us of the influences which may be exerted by the landscape 
painter. That these are of importance no one can deny. Is not 
painting as well the expression of thought as writing ? With his pen- 
cil, if he is a wise and good man, the artist may portray, to every eye 
that rests upon his canvass, the loveliness of virtue and religion, or 
the deformity and wretchedness of a vicious life. He may warn the 
worldling of his folly and impending doom, and encourage the Christ- 
ian in his pilgrimage to heaven. He may delineate the marvelous 
beauty of nature, so as to lead the mind upward to its Creator, or pro- 
claim the ravages of time, that we may take heed to our ways and pre- 
pare ourselves for a safe departure from this world, into that beyond 
the Valley of the Shadow of Death. A goodly portion of all these 
things have been accomplished by Thomas Cole. As yet, he is the only 
landscape painter in this country who has attempted imaginative paint- 
ing, and the success which has followed him in his career, even in a 
pecuniary point of view, affords great encouragement to our younger 
painters in this department of the art. He has set a noble example, 
which ought to be extensively followed. Observe, we do not mean 
by this that his subjects ought to be imitated. Far from it ; because 
they are not stamped with as decided a national character, as the pro- 
productions of all painters should be. Excepting his actual views of 
American scenery, the paintings of Cole might have been produced 
had he never set foot upon our soil. Let our young artists aspire to 
something above a mere copy of nature, or even a picture of the fancy; 
let them paint the visions of their imagination. No other country ever 
offered such advantages as our own. Let our young painters use their 
pencils to illustrate the thousand scenes, strange, wild, and beautiful. 



164 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

of our early history. Let them aim high, and their achievements will 
be distinguished. Let them remember that theirs is a noble destiny. 
What though ancient wisdom and modern poetry have told us that 
^' art is long and time is fleeting !" — let them toil and persevere with 
nature as their guide, and they will assuredly have their reward. 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 165 



POVERTY.* 

And wherefore do the poor complain? 

The rich man asked of me : 
Come walk abroad with me, I said, 

And I will answer thee. 

SOUTUET. 

Attended by police officers, we once paid a visit to a building called 
the Old Brewery, wbich infests the city of New York as does a cancer 
the bosom of a splendid woman. At the time in question, it was a 
very large and rickety affair, and the lio^ne of about eighty pauper 
families; and we verily believe contained more unalloyed suffering 
than could have been found in any other building in the United 
States. It belonged to the city, and was rented by a woman, who, in 
her turn, rented it out by piecemeal to the paupers. For many years 
it was a dram shop or a college for the education of drunkards, and it 
is now the comfortless hospital or dying-place of those drunkards and 
their descendants. We visited this spot at midnight, and were lighted 
on our way by torches which we carried in our hands. 

Having passed through a place called Murderer's Alley (on account 
of the many murders committed there), our leading officer bolted into 
a room, where was presented the following spectacle. The room itself 
was more filthy than a sty. In the fii'eplace were a few burning em- 
bers, above which hung a kettle, tended by a woman and her daughter. 
It contained a single cabbage, and was all they had to eat, and the 
woman told us she had not tasted food for twenty-four hours. The 
wretched being, it appears, had been engaged in a fight with some 
brute of a man, who had so severely bruised her face that one whole 

* The unvarnished facts contained in this article were picked up by the 
writer in the autumn and winter of 1847, while he had charge of the city de- 
partment of the New York Daily Express. 



166 KECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

side was literally black and blue. We asked her some questions and 
alluded to her young daugliter. She replied to our inquiries^ and then 
burst into tears, and wept as if her heart was broken. The only com- 
ment which the daughter made was, " Mother, what are you crying 
about ? Don't make a fool of yourself. Tears will not wipe away 
God's curse." The couch to which this pair of women were to retire 
after their midnight meal, was a pallet of straw, wet with liquid mud 
that came oozing through the stone walls of the subterranean room. 
This woman told us that her husband was in the State prison, and that 
she was the mother of seven daughters, all of whom but the one pre- 
sent had died in girlhood, utterly abandoned to every vice. " Yes," 
added the woman, " and I hope that me and my Mary will soon join 
them ; there can be no worse hell than the one we are enduring." 
She mourned over her unhappy fate, and looked upon vice as a matter 
of necessity — for they could not starve. 

In the next room that we entered, on a litter of straw, and with 
hardly any covering upon them, lay a man and his wife, the former 
suffering with asthma and the latter in the last stages of consumption. 
Covered as they were with the most filthy rags, they looked more like 
reptiles than human beings. In another corner of the same room, 
upon a wooden box, sat a young woman with a child on her lap ; the 
former possessing a pale and intellectual countenance, while the latter 
was a mere skeleton. The woman uttered not a word while we were 
present, but seemed to be musing in silent despair. Her history and 
very name were unknown, but her silence and the vacant stare of her 
passionless eyes spoke of unutterable sorrow. She was the " queen of 
a fantastic realm." 

Another room that we entered contained no less than five families, 
and in one corner was a woman in the agonies of death, while at her 
side sat a miserable dog, howling a requiem over the dying wretch. 
In another corner lay the helpless form of a boy, about ten years of 
age, who was aflflicted with the small-pox, and had been abandoned to 
his miserable fate. He had rolled off the straw, and his cheek rested 
upon the wet floor, which was black with filth. All the rooms we 
visited were pretty much alike, crowded with human beings, but there 
were particular ones which attracted our attention. The faded beauty 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 167 

and yet brilliant eye of one woman attracted ouf notice, and we were 
informed that it was only about two years ago that she was performing 
Juliet at one of the principal theatres to the delight of thousands. 
She is now an outcast, and her only possession is a ragged calico gown. 
In another room we noticed the living remains of a German philoso- 
pher, who was once a preacher, then a professor in the Berlin and 
Halle Universities, an author, a rationalist, a doctor of philosophy, and 
now a — pauper. He came to this country about three years ago, sup- 
posing that his learning would here find a ready market. This man is 
master of the Hebrew, Greek, Latin, French, and German languages, 
and yet a bitter reviler of the Christian religion ! He was brought to 
his present state by the united influences of his infidel principles and 
the wine cup. 

In one room we saw a husband and his wife with three children, 
sound asleep on a bed of shavings, and the furniture thereof consisted 
of only a pine box, a wooden bowl (partly filled with meal), and a tea- 
cup, while on the hearth of the empty fireplace were scattered a few 
meatless bones. In another we saw a woman in a state of gross in- 
toxication, whose child, wrapped in rags, was lying on a bed of icarm 
ashes in one corner of the fireplace. In one room a lot of half-clothed 
negroes were fighting like hyenas ; and in another a forlorn old man 
was suffering with delirium tremens. In another, still, the fireplace 
was destitute of fire and the hearth of wood. On the floor were three 
litters of straw ; on one lay the corpse of a woman and a dead infant, 
and another child about three years of age, which had no covering 
upon its shivering body except the fragments of an old cloak. On 
one pile of straw lay a middle-aged man apparently breathing his last; 
and in the opposite corner was seated a drunken woman, a stranger to 
the dead and dying, who was calling down curses upon the head of her 
husband, who had abandoned her to her misery. As we rambled about 
the old building, peering into the dark rooms of poverty and infamy, 
we were forcibly reminded of Dante's description of hell. The ma- 
jority of women that we saw were widows, and we were informed that 
the rent they paid varied from two to six shillings per week. Our 
guide, before leaving, directed our attention to the back yard, where, 
within the last two years, twenty people had been found dead. Their 



168 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

histories yet remain in mystery, and we were told of the singular fact 
that a funeral had not been known to occur at the Old Brewery for 
many years, as it has ever been a market-place for anatomists and their 
menials. 

On giving the readers of the Express some of the above facts, a 
number of benevolent individuals remitted to us quite a large amount 
of money for the inmates of the Brewery. One lady (Grod bless the 
Christian!) sent us no less than ten dollars. In fulfilling our obligations 
to these charitable friends, we purchased clothing, bread, pork, fish, 
and vegetables, and, assisted by a couple of servants, took another 
walk over the mansion of suffering. As we went in the day time, we 
expected to see less misery than we did on our former visits, but were 
sadly disappointed. We entered several new rooms and saw new pic- 
tures of distress. In one was a very old negro, sitting in his desolate 
chimney corner, with no clothing on his person but a pair of panta- 
loons; he was afflicted with the asthma and shivering with cold, 
while his poor wife was weeping over their wretched condition. 
When we supplied the latter with food, we thought the overjoyed 
being would actually clasp me in her arms. On entering another 
room, we discovered a mass of rags in one corner, where lay an elderly 
woman who had lost the use of her limbs, and had not been able to 
move from her couch of shavings for upwards of two months. She 
was evidently the victim of consumption, and not far from the gate- 
way to the grave. Her only attendant was a kindly-disposed woman 
who had the dropsy. When we gave her some food, she actually 
wept tears of gratitude, and begged me to accept a rug, which she 
had made of rags, probably picked up in the street. In another room, 
before an expiring fire, sat a sickly-looking girl, about ten years of 
age, holding in her arms a little babe, and the countenances of both 
were deeply furrowed by premature suffering. Her story was that 
her mother had been dead about a month, and she knew not the 
fate of her father, who had been arrested for stealing some two weeks 
before. She obtained her living by begging, and when too feeble to 
carry her infant sister in the street, was in the habit of leaving it in 
her room under the protection of a miserable dog, to which she 
directed my attention. We gave this sadly unfortunate girl a large 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 169 

supply of food, and was sorely grieved that it was not in our power 
to take her from her cheerless dwelling place to some other home, 
where she might be fed, clothed, and instructed. The act of adopting 
such a child would cover a multitude of sins. The condition of Mr. 
Dickens's fancy child " Little Nell" was real happiness compared to 
the condition of this living and yet dying orphan. God have mercy 
upon the innocent poor ! 

Another room into which we entered was completely crowded with 
human beings. On one bed of rags and straw lay a woman who was 
so very ill that she could not speak, and her only covering, strange as 
it may seem, was a tattered American flag. She was a stranger to 
all her companions, but supposed to be the wife of a sailor, who had 
died some months before. Immediately in front of the firejplace, 
lying on her side, was a colored woman moaning with the rheumatism, 
and in her immediate vicinity was her husband, suffering intensely 
with a cold. Here sat an Irish woman on a chest, holding an infant 
in her arms ; she was singing a lullaby, and yet she told me that she 
had not eaten a hearty meal for many weeks. There, lying in his 
corner, was a middle aged man, confined to the floor by an ulcerated 
knee, and he had in charge a feeble babe, which had never been 
blessed with even a calico dress — it was not only naked, but a cripple 
from its birth. The wife of this man was dead, and those were her 
dying groans which chilled my blood with horror when we made a 
nocturnal visit to this miserable abode. His only helper in his hour 
of great need was a puny boy, about seven years old, who seemed to 
be an idiot. The appearance of this child we cannot possibly de- 
scribe. The happiest individual in this room was a colored man, who 
appeared to be in good health, but he crawled about on crutches, for he 
had lost both his legs. He seemed to be an exceedingly worthy and 
amiable man, and we were lavish in our gifts to him and those in 
whom he was interested. 

But enough, enough. There can be no use in continuing this 
painful record. We would assure our readers, however, that we have 
only sketched a small portion of the unimagined misery which lately 
existed and still exists in the Old Brewery. The spectacles we have 
witnessed there excel the most extravagant flights of fancy ; we have 
15 



170 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

never read the book wliicli contained pictures of such complete and 
hopeless misery. We have told a simple tale of truth^ contributed our 
pittance^ and it now remains for the opulent of the great metropolis 
and the rulers thereof to do their duty. Is it right that such a build- 
ing as the Old Brewery should be suffered to exist within a stone's 
throw of the City Hall ? Is it right that the ^^ hell hounds'' (we now 
allude to a fact) should be permitted by the authorities to sell their 
poisons under the same roof where hundreds of people are dying from 
starvation^ brought upon them by their own folly and those very 
dram shops ? We would not make an issue upon the license ques- 
tion ; but, we ask, is it right, is it humane, to allow this state of 
things ? If the aged in iniquity cannot be reclaimed, ought not some- 
thing to be done to save the children of the Old Brewery — the inno- 
cent, laughter-loving children, from spending their days in misery ? 
If nothing else can be done, it would be a mercy to fire that abode of 
suffering, even though every soul within its walls should perish in the 
flames ; the wail of agony would indeed be dreadful, but it would be 
of short duration. Why will not the superb city of New York wipe 
from her bosom this lump of leprosy, which is now preying upon her 
vitals ? Can the rich now understand why it is that the poor complain ? 



An Irishman, his wife, and two children were brought to the alms- 
house in a complete state of starvation. They landed in the city from 
an emigrant ship, and had not tasted food for several days. The mo- 
ther was wellnigh a perfect skeleton, and the sunken cheeks and eyes 
of the whole family told the melancholy truth that they were the 
victims of the most intense suffering. One of the children was so near 
dead that it could not walk, whilst it was with the utmost difficulty 
that even the father could totter over the floor. They were as nearly 
dead as it is possible for the living to be, and want of food was the 
principal cause which had brought them to this miserable state. In 
answer to all questions asked them, their replies were, "We want some 
bread ; do give us some bread ; we will die if you do not give us some 
bread." As a matter of course their wants were immediately supplied, 
but the utmost caution was necessary in administering food. When 
they were seated at the table, the first thing the mother did was to 



RECOKDS OF A TOURIST. 171 

feed her youngest child. In doing this she took not the least notice 
of herself, but uttered a strange wild laugh ; and, when the child was 
made quite sick by even a spoonful of rice, the mother wept most 
bitterly, and said : " Oh, my child is going to die ! — what shall I do 
to save its darling life V Four days afterwards every member of 
this exiled family had passed into the unknown future. 

On another occasion an intemperate woman was taken to the alms- 
house, ragged and reeling at the time, and bearing a little child, sup- 
posed to be about sixteen months old. It was literally a skeleton, 
entirely destitute of flesh, a mere fragment of humanity. The smaller 
portions of its arms and legs were not more than half an inch in thick- 
ness, while the corners of its mouth were drawn down, and its eyes so 
deeply sunken that it had the appearance of an old and decrepit woman. 
Its face was white as snow, its body almost as cold, and wrinkles upon 
its cheek and brow were distinctly marked ; and what made the picture 
still more wretched was the fact that the poor child had the icliooping 
cough and was totally blind. The opinion of the attending physician 
was that the child had been famished. On questioning the mother 
about her offspring it was ascertained that the child had never taken 
any food but what came from her breast ; its condition was partly 
attributed to this fact, and it was evident that all its sufferings were 
inherited from its mother; that it had been a drunkard even from the 
hour of its birth. It was found necessary to take the child away from 
its mother; but, as she would not give it up, she was taken to the 
Tombs, and at midnight, when the parent was in a deep sleep, the 
child was taken from her filthy and inflamed bosom, and placed in the 
hands of a careful nurse. The weeping and wailing of that forsaken 
mother, on the following morning, were terrible in the extreme. Her 
brain was on fire, and at the setting of the sun she was numbered with 
the dead. In less than a week thereafter the pauper child had fol- 
lowed its mother to Potter's Field. 



It was recorded in the newspapers that the dead body of an aged 
man had been found, tied up in a coffee bag, and floating in the East 
river. His throat was cut from ear to ear, and it was supposed he 
had been murdered, but later developments explained the mystery. 



172 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

The name of the deceased was subsequently ascertained; he belonged 
to one of the oldest and most respectable families of Connecticut, and 
was related to one of its former governors. The individual in ques- 
tion spent the morning and noon of his life in the lap of luxury; in old 
age, however, his wealth, wife, children, and nearly all his kindred, 
were taken away from him, and he became a man acquainted with 
many sorrows. Some months previous to the time when his body was 
found, and while actually suffering from hunger, it so happened that 
he entered a certain dwelling for the purpose of asking alms. The 
principal inmate of that dwelling was a widow who had once been on 
the most intimate terms with the family of the beggar, having been 
born in the same town. The friends of other days recognized each 
other, a long conversation ensued, which recalled a thousand recollec- 
tions of childhood, and they were very happy. The only thought 
which oppressed the spirit of the mendicant was, that his bones, when 
he came to die, would be deposited in the soil of strangers, and his 
only prayer was that he might be buried among his kindred. His 
kind friend assured him that, if her own life was spared, the desire 
of his heart should be fully gratified. 

Weeks passed on, and, contrary to the wishes of his friend, the old 
man became an inmate of the almshouse. In process of time the sil- 
ver cord of the pilgrim's life was broken, and he was buried in the 
public graveyard. Subsequently to this his body was disinterred, used 
for purposes of dissection, and rudely thrown into the river. In the 
meanwhile the widow had sent to the coroner to inquire how she 
might obtain the pauper's body, as she wished to bury him elsewhere 
than in Potter's Field, but she could meet with no encouragement. A 
number of days was the man's body tossed to and fro in the East 
River, but by the hand of Providence it was washed ashore and given 
in charge to the coroner. This gentleman suspected that the deceased 
was the friend of the widow who had consulted him some days before, 
and it so happened that his suspicions were well founded, for the body 
in due time was recognized. It was given into the custody of the good 
woman, who had it placed in a decent coffin, and the aged pauper was 

buried in the vault of the W , in Connecticut, by the side of his 

wife and children. It is indeed a fact that fiction is often not one-half 



I 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 173 

SO strange as truth ', and it is also certain that human life is but a 
dream^ and the ways of God unsearchable. 



Beautiful were the orphan minstrels of whom we are now to speak; 
beautiful in mind and heart. The party was composed of three indi- 
yiduals, two sisters and a little brother, the eldest of whom had not 
yet seen her thirteenth summer. Remarkable singers they were not, 
but yet there was something wild and plaintive in their voices which 
cannot easily be forgotten. The instruments they used, however — the 
harp, the tamborin, and flute — were uncommonly musical, and played 
upon with facility and taste. 

We became acquainted with these minstrels in this wise. They 
had stopped for a few moments, about nine o'clock in the evening, in 
the hall of Rathbun's hotel. After delighting a crowd of listeners, and 
receiving a few pennies, they courtesied and bowed, and then contin- 
ued on their way. We had an hour's leisure at the time, and resolved 
as a matter of curiosity, that we would follow the children. We did 
so, and saw them enter two or three hotels, where they performed a 
number of pieces. The night was now far advanced, and they turned 
Barclay Street on their way home. Onward did they trip, with glad- 
ness in their hearts, talking together in the French tongue ; and, in a 
few moments after, we saw them turn down Washington street into an 
emigrant boarding house. We were now in a predicament, and afraid 
to lose our game. But resolving to defend our conduct by inquiring 
after some imaginary person, we bolted into the house and followed 
the children up two flights of stairs. They entered a room where 
were seated a very old man and an equally old woman. The meeting 
between this aged pair and the little children was quite touching, for, 
when the money was counted and laid away, the latter were rewarded 
by a loving embrace. Soon as this scene was ended we made our ap- 
pearance, and introduced ourselves by asking the intended question. 
This having been promptly and politely answered, we proceeded a 
little further in our queries, and obtained the following information : 
The senior members of this family were the grandparents of the chil- 
dren, and their only relatives in the world. The old man said they 
were all natives of France; that they had been in this country four 

15* 



174 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

months ; and tliat tlieir only support was derived from the wiivearied 
labors of (lie minstrel children. As the old man told his story his eyes 
were filled with tears; he was mourning over his own helplessness, 
and yet rejoicing over the living blessings of his old age. Having apo- 
logized for my rudeness, and uttered what I thought would be a word 
of comfort, we bade each member of the family a kind good night, and 
left them to obtain the repose they needed, and to dream perchance 
of church bells ringing in one of the beautiful valleys of their native 
land. 



We happened to be out at an unusually late hour on a certain night, 
and while on our way home witnessed the following picture. In pass- 
ing one of the more splendid mansions in the upper part of Broadway 
our attention was attracted by a singular looking object, which we 
thought was attempting to effect an entrance into the house. Curiosi- 
ty led us to draw near,, when we beheld a group of three little girls 
nestled in the corner of the marble doorway. One of them appeared 
to be about twelve years of age, and the other two had perhaps seen 
seven and nine years. The former was seated in the Turkish fashion 
on the coarse matting, apparently half asleep, whilst the heads of the 
other two were pillowed on her lap, and both evidently enjoying a 
dream of peace and comfort. As we remembered the sumptuous and 
fashionable entertainment in which we had just participated, and re- 
flected upon the picture before us, we were almost disposed to doubt 
the evidence of our senses. It was already past midnight, and the 
sleet which beat upon our head assured us that we ought to make an 
effort to relieve the vagrant children from their miserable condition, 
for they were almost naked and barefooted. 

After some difi&culty we found a watchman, when we awoke the 
children and asked them about their home. They reluctantly told us 
where their parents resided, and it was with the utmost difficulty that 
we could induce them to accompany us. We succeeded, however, in 
taking them home, which was a comfortless dwelling with one room, 
where we witnessed the following spectacle. On a bed of straw lay 
the father of these children in a state of senseless intoxication, and on 
the bare floor in another corner of the room was the mother, moaning 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 175 

with pain, and bleeding from wounds which had been inflicted by her 
cruel husband. One of the little girls told us they had not eaten as 
much food as they wanted for ten days, that they had been forced 
into the street for the purpose of begging, and that the scene before 
us was an old story to them. My opulent and- happy readers, it is 
probable, can scarcely believe that such things actually exist in the 
Christian city of New York ; but what we assert is as true as the fact, 
that the scourge intemperance is annually destroying some thirty 
thousand souls in our land alone. 

This allusion to intemperance reminds me of another melancholy 
picture, which we once witnessed in the great emporium. We had 
been enjoying a walk among the shipping in South street, when we 
discovered, partly hidden from view by a pile of casks and boxes, a 
man and two guardian angels. It was the insensible form of a poor 
drunkard, lying on the ground, and at his side two little girls, one of 
whom looked upon me with a most wo-begone expression of counte- 
nance, while the pale temples of the other were resting on the bloated 
bosom of the man. He was their father, and they were motherless. 



We once visited the Children's Hospital connected with the Alms- 
house of New York, and the spectacles we there witnessed were even 
more touching than those connected with the Old Brewery. The 
entire building (which is on Blackwell's Island) contained over one 
hundred children, about one-half of whom were so ill as to be confined 
to their beds, and it is the room where these were harbored to which 
we now allude. The beds were arranged along the walls, about three 
feet apart, and each end of every bed or cot was occupied by a sick 
child. The majority of them were motherless and fatherless, and 
entirely dependent upon strangers for those kind and delicate atten- 
tions which commonly smooth the pathway to the grave. Some of 
them were the offspring of intemperate parents, now confined in the 
State Prison ; while many of them had not even inherited a name. 
Not one of the whole number but presented a feeble and haggard ap- 
pearance, and the pains of many were intense, for their mingled 
moans actually fills the room with a heart-sickening chorus. One 
poor little thing, about three years of age, was sitting in its bed, eating 



176 EECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

a dry crust of bread, to satisfy a morbid appetite, and the disease 
which preyed upon the vitals of this child was consumption in its 
most ghastly form. Hollow and wrinkled were its cheeks, eyes large 
and deeply sunken, and, while looked upon, hot tears trickled upon 
its pillow. In the same bed was another of these unhappy children, 
dying from the terrible malady of scrofula. It had been a cripple 
from its birth, and could hardly be recognized as a human being. 
We caught a glimpse of the creature's countenance as it slumbered, 
and was positively startled by its surpassing beauty. It was as bright 
and spiritual as the light of a star. It was certain, however, that death 
had marked it for the grave, and we remembered the poet's words : — 

" The good die first, 
And they, whose hearts are dry as summer dust, 
Burn to the soclcet." — Wordsworth. 

This deformed but yet lovely fragment of humanity had been 
picked up as a foundling, and was without a name. Another child 
which attracted my attention, though only about twelve years of age, 
had the appearance of being thirty. She had been brought from an 
emigrant ship, suffering with fever associated with bronchitis. She 
had a finely developed head, a beautiful and highly intellectual face, 
but it was deeply marked with the lines of suffering, and her cheeks 
were flushed with the hue of approaching death. She was also trou- 
bled with a hollow cough, and her body was a mere skeleton. The 
attending physician patted her upon the head and asked her how she 
felt to-day ; when she looked up with a smile, '^ made of all sweet 
accord," and answered : " I am going to die, doctor. Tell them to 
have my coffin ready ; and, dear doctor, will they not bury me by the 
side of my mother and little sister, in that place you call Potter's 
Field V Who now can ask the question : " And wherefore do the 
poor complain ?" 



Four Irishmen, all afflicted with the ship fever, had landed from an 
emigrant ship in the city of New York. The party consisted of a 
father and three sons. They were friendless and without money. In 
the company of three hundred beings, as miserable as themselves, had 






RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 177 

tbey landed in tlie city, and, in the confusion attendant upon the dis- 
charge of the ship, it so happened that they were separated, and the 
father knew not the fate of the sons, nor the sons the fate of thp 
father. 

A number of weeks elapsed, when the elder brother of this family 
called upon the commissioner of the almshouse, praying for assistance 
that he might find his relatives, if yet in the land of the living. The 
story that he told of his own sufferings since his arrival was most 
melancholy ; for he had been living the life of a sick vagrant, in and 
about the Tombs. The commissioner took pity upon him and gave 
him all the assistance he desired, and the pauper, with a guide, started 
upon the . hunting expedition. The first place they visited was the 
New York Hospital, where it was ascertained the second brother had 
died of the loathsome ship fever, and whence his remains had been 
taken to Potter's Field. They next went to the Bellevue Hospital, 
and heard precisely the same story with regard to the third brother. 
They also visited the Lunatic Asylum, where it was ascertained that 
the father had been confined as a raving maniac, but had paid the 
debt of nature, and was now a resider in the city of the dead. As to 
the feelings of the forlorn man, who had thus been stripped of every 
tie which bound him to the earth, I cannot attempt to describe them. 
His only prayer was that one little spot of earth might be granted to 
him, where he might rebury his dead relatives, provided their bodies 
could be recognized, and where his own ashes might be deposited after 
his race was run. The commissioner promised to do all in his power 
to bring out this result, and in less than one week the pauper^ s prayer 
was ansivered ! 



It was an emigrant ship, and when boarded by a New York pilot 
he was informed that she had left England with two hundred poverty- 
stricken passengers, some twenty-five of whom had died on the passage, 
and been buried in the deep. Among the departed were a father and 
mother, who had left behind them a little girl nine years old. Deso- 
late indeed was her lot before she became an orphan ', but when the 
^^ silver cord" which bound her to her parents was broken, her condi- 
tion became more deplorable than ever ; and, as the ship glided into 



178 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

the noble bay of New York^ the child was also numbered with the 
dead — none knowing whence she came^ none knowing even her bap- 
tismal name. 

In due time the ship was safely moored^ and^ while the usual dis- 
charging bustle was going on, an almshouse coffin was sent for, into 
which the pauper child was placed (with her ragged clothes carefully 
tucked round her body), and then given into the charge of the alms- 
house sextons. Not one tear was shed as they mounted the hearse, 
and not one word of regret or sorrow was uttered by the multitude 
around as the sextons started for Potter's Field. 

Long was the way to the crowded city of the dead. The sextons 
were in a merry mood, and, as their carriage rattled over the stony 
streets, they cracked their jokes and laughed as if going to a wedding 
instead of the tomb. But how could these men be blamed ? They 
were following their vocation and receiving liberal pay. Once in a 
while, however, a troublesome thought seemed to pass their minds, 
but it was only when fearful that they might lose their dinner on 
account of the great number of paupers who were to be buried before 
the coming on of night. They hurried by a school-house, before 
which a flock of little girls were playing and laughing in their glee, 
but these happy children thought not upon the sister spirit whose re- 
mains were going to the grave. Onward rattled the hearse, and after 
turning the corner of a street it came to a halt, and the senior sexton 
stepped into his house for a drink of water. A number of laughing 
children met him at the door, and after he had satisfied his thirst he 
gave each one of them a kiss, and again, in a jovial mood, started for 
the public grave-yard. Another mile and the hearse reached the 
margin of the East River, where the Potter's Field boat was in wait- 
ing, managed by the keeper of the field. Carelessly was the coffin 
transferred from the hearse to the boat, and the journey of the dead 
was continued. The boat was now moored at the landing place on 
Randall's Island, where the coffin was taken away on a man's shoul- 
der, and deposited in a deep trench covered with a few shovels full of 
sand, and lying in the midst of a multitude of unknown dead from 
every nation on the globe. And thus endeth the story of the pauper 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 179 

child, -who crossed the ocean only to find a grave in a land she never 
saw, and wliere the very name she hove is utterly unknown. 



It was the twilight hour, and we saw an old and deformed woman 
standing in front of St. Paul's, asking alms. "We happened to be in 
the mood just then, and tarried for a few moments to watch the charity 
of the world. Many, in the passing tide of human life, were to us 
unknown, but of the few that we recognized the following attracted 
our particular attention : 

First came a gentleman whom we knew to be a merchant of great 
wealth ; and, as he approached the beggar, we surely thought that he 
would listen to her petition. But no — he was thinking of his last 
importation, or the sum total of his rents, and he passed on with these 
words as a donation : " You must go to the poor-house, my good wo- 
man.'' We thought upon the days of darkness. 

Then came a scholar-like looking young man, whom we knew to be 
a straggler with poverty ; but he approached the beggar with a smile 
upon his countenance, dropped a shilling into her withered hand, called 
for God's blessing to rest upon her head, and resumed his way. My 
fancy now wandered to that blessed region where ever floweth the river 
of life. 

Next came an intemperate and selfish man. When the imploring 
look of the cripple met his own, he coolly frowned upon her, uttered 
a wicked curse, and reeled onward to a hall of sinful revelry. And 
now we pondered on the worm that never dieth. 

Finally came a little flock of boys and girls, returning from school. 
The woman smiled upon them, but spoke not a single word. The 
children knew her to be a beggar, and paused to talk with her a mo- 
ment. She told them briefly the story of her life, and they were 
melted to tears. All the pennies that the children could raise were 
given to the woman ; and each child, with an immortal jewel in its 
heart, passed on its way to receive a shower of kisses from its fond 
parents. And now our mind reveled in a dream of heaven-born love- 
liness. 



And now, by way of giving our readers an idea of self-infiicted 



180 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

poverty, we will furnish them with a brief sketch of an old miser re- 
siding in the Empire city : 

He is an old man — a very old man ; he is also a strange man — a 
very strange man ; whose history and name are alike unknown. His 
business is that of a paper scavenger, and the spoil which he collects 
in his journeying about the city he disposes of at the rate of one cent 
per pound. Many pounds does he often gather in a single day ; but, 
as it only costs him four shillings per week to live, it is certain he 
lays up a few shillings at the close of every day. He commences his 
daily business in the down-town streets even when the day is breaking, 
and continues at his monotonous employment until the dark hours. 
He never goes home to dinner, but, when hungry, generally purchases 
a dry crust of bread, and eats it sitting upon the lower steps of the 
Custom-house or the City Hall. Never does he utter a word to a 
living soul ; and when the stranger looks upon him he feels disposed 
to exclaim, " what a poor miserable being I" He is, indeed, a pitiable 
object to look upon, for his leather clothes are glossy and hard with 
the accumulated filth of many years, and his countenance is furrowed 
all over with deep wrinkles which no one could believe were ever 
moistened with a tear. He is a hard-visaged man, repulsive and even 
terrible to look upon. For fifteen years have we known this singular 
being, and ^^even then he was so old he seems not older now.'^ There 
are people in this great city who have been familiar with his form for 
upwards of twenty years, and they ajQfirm that he has been a paper 
scavenger during all that time. At all times, when the winds of 
winter howl through the streets, and also when the dog-star reigns, 
does he pursue his laborious and degrading employment. 

And now, that I have introduced my hero to the reader, it is meet 
that we should mention what we know of his actual condition. He is 
a miser — a narrow-minded and mean miser, who can count his dollars 
by tens of thousands. If the reader doubts my word, let him, when 
next he meets the miserable man in the public highway, ask him the 
time of day, and he will be promptly answered, on the authority of a 
superb gold watch, hidden in his filthy vestments. A dry crust of 
bread, and a cast-off bone constitute his daily food, and yet this man 
carries the deeds in his pocket which prove him to be the proprietor 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 181 

of at least five handsome dwelling houses^ located in a fashionable 
part of the city ; certificates of bank stock and other valuable papers 
are also hidden in his pockets. He is a widower, but the father of an 
only daughter, whom he has established over a superbly furnished 
house as the sole mistress and only tenant. She has all she needs in 
the way of household things, and every luxury of the season, and, 
though her servants may prepare a sumptuous feast, none participate 
with her in its enjoyment. Though it would add to her happiness on 
such occasion to call in a neighboring friend, yet the privilege of 
giving an invitation is denied by her father in the most positive and 
imperative manner. In the rear of this daughter's dwelling is located 
a rickety shell of a cabin, resembling more the appearance of a sty than 
a human habitation, and this is the only dwelling-place of our miser ; 
and here he spends the precious hours of his leisure life, counting his 
gold and examining the signatures of his deeds by the light which 
rests upon his oaken table, and seldom is it extinguished until after 
the hour of midnight ; and when exhausted with his strange vigils, 
carefully does he fasten, with heavy iron bolts, the door of hisden, 
and sink to sleep upon his bed of rags. 



16 



182 RECOEDS OF A TOURIST. 



THE FATAL VALENTINE. 

Mary Marlowe was a beautiful girl, and the only child of devoted 
parents. Her father was a merchant in moderate circumstances, and 
resided in one of the more secluded streets of the great emporium of 
our land. The society to which they belonged was of the highest 
respectability, but the life led by each member of this family was dis- 
tinguished for its peacefulness. 

All the young men who were acquainted with the only daughter, 
were charmed by her accomplished mind, personal beauty, and the 
sweetness of her voice. But among those who aspired to win her hand 
and heart, was one who had been received as an accepted lover. The 
parties were worthy of each other, and the love which was daily unit- 
ing them almost into one being, was eminently refined and pure. 
Charming beyond compare were the scenes which the lover was con- 
stantly picturing to his mind, but the smiles of his lady constituted the 
sunlight of every scene; and she, too, cherished many a vision of un- 
alloyed happiness, and the thought never entered her mind that the 
world contained a single cloud that could possibly cast a shadow over 
her heart. Like a young and vigorous tree of the forest, the young 
man stood among his fellows; and like a flower in a remote dell dwelt 
the heroine of our story, in her quiet home. 

It was the evening of St. Valentine^ s Day, and Mary Marlowe was 
seated before a comfortable fire; now thoughtfully peering into the 
glowing grate, and anon enjoying some of the fine passages of her 
favorite authors. Her father was absent from home on some charitable 
errand, while her mother and a country cousin, who was making her 
a winter visit, were spending the evening with a neighboring family. 
And it so happened, too, that Mary's lover was absent from the city, 
so the beautiful damsel was entirely alone. Yes, she was indeed 
alone, but far from being in a lonely mood, for her thoughts were 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 183 

with her lover, and she amused herself by dwelling upon the treasures 
of her newly-discovered ideal world. 

But now the damsel is startled by the sudden ringing of the street 
door bell, and the servant presently makes his appearance in the parlor 
with a note addressed to Mary Marlowe. She recognizes the hand- 
writing — it is from her lover, and quickly does she fix herself comfort- 
ably in the old arm-chair to enjoy the anticipated luxury. She opens 
the letter, and reads as follows : — 

'■'■ My dear Mary — You are indeed dear to me, but at the same time 
I think you are a cold-hearted girl, and I fear that you possess a timid 
and bashful disposition, which would never be reconciled to my sterner 
nature. In view of this deeply-rooted belief, I have conceived the 
idea of bringing our intimacy of half a year to an immediate close. 
And what more appropriate season could be selected for our separation 
than the present, when, as I doubt not, you are well-nigh overwhelmed 
with the missives of St. Valentine, and can, in a moment, select a 
worthy lover from the many who have sought your hand ? And now 
that I may be in the fashion, I subscribe myself. 

Your Friend and Valentine." 

The cruel arrow has pierced the maiden's heart, and by the calm 

despair now resting on her brow, we tremble for her fate. Tears 

come not to her relief — the crimson current in her veins has ceased 

to flow, and she falls into the hollow of her chair in a deep swoon. 

And now she is visited by a dream, and if we are to believe the story 

of her countenance, strange and fearful must be the character of that 

dream. 

% ^ ^ i(^ % % ^ 

It is now ten o'clock ; the family have all returned, and our Mary 
has recovered from her swoon. Laughingly does her mother talk to 
her about her housekeeping duties, for her drooping eyelids intimate 
the idea that she has enjoyed a comfortable nap. To this a pleasant 
reply is returned, accompanied with a kiss for all present, but none, 
save our poor Mary, can see the heavy cloud brooding upon the house- 



184 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

hold. A few moments more, and the family have all retired to their 
several apartments, and the house is shrouded in silence. 

As usual, Mary and her cousin are to occupy the same bed, and the 
latter, being uncommonly drowsy, is soon lost in a sweet slumber. 
And now let us watch with care the movements of her companion, 
who, when last noticed by the sleeper, was poring over the pages of 
her Bible. Noiselessly do her footsteps fall upon the carpet, as she 
goes to a closet for a small vial, which she examines, and then places 
upon her dressing-case. Drawer after drawer is opened, and on one 
or two chairs are displayed the various articles which compose the 
dress of a bride. And now the lady retires to her bath, and then 
comes forth with a ruddy glow upon her cheek; her flowing hair is 
bound into its beautiful folds, and in a short time she stands before 
her mirror decked in spotless white, as if for a virgin festival. What 
does all this mean? Alas I our Mary is ^Hhe queen of a fantastic 
realm." 

But, lo! another change. The lamp has been extinguished, and 
our Mary is upon her knees at prayer, with her hands closely clasped, 
and her full liquid eyes turned heavenward. The mellow moonlight 
steals sweetly through the open curtains, adding an unwonted bright- 
ness, as it were, to the figure of the praying girl. Not a sound is there 
to break the holy silence of the place— no sound save the almost in- 
audible words of this strange prayer : — 

"Father in heaven, I cannot understand the decree of thy Provi- 
dence, but I submit to thy dispensation without a murmur. I knew 
that in my womanly idolatry I was forgetting thee, and I now beseech 
thee, in thine infinite love, to have mercy upon me, and wash my soul 
from every transgression. Have mercy also, Grod, upon him who 
has broken my heart ; comfort my parents in their declining years, 
and answer my prayer through the merits of thy Son, the Redeemer 
of the world. I come to dwell with Thee, if thou wilt receive me to 
thy bosom. Amen and Amen." 

;j< ;}c ^ 5}; ^ ^ >1< 

Morning dawned, and the pleasant sunshine was flooding the world 
with beauty. Our Mary's cousin was the first to awaken from slum- 
ber, when she encircled her bedfellow with her arms, and imprinted 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 185 

an affectionate kiss upon her lips; one moment more, and she was 
petrified with horror — for Mary Marlowe was numbered with the dead. 
On the third day after that of St. Valentine, the lover of the un- 
happy suicide returned to the city. He found not his beloved in the 
pleasant parlor of her father, but a sleeper in the voiceless and deso- 
late tomb. The fatal valentine was found and submitted to his in- 
spection. He avowed his utter ignorance of it, and having fallen into 
a settled melancholy, is now a raving maniac. As to the thoughtless 
and wicked man who wrote the foolish valentine, his name and pur- 
pose are alike unknown. 

Note. — The prominent features of this incident actually occurred in the city 
of New York in February, 1847. 



16* 



INDIAN LEGENDS 



NOTE PKELIMINARY. 

The following romantic but authentic legends have been collected by the writer I 

from a variety of sources, and are now presented to the public as an addition to -j 

the aboriginal lore, already published in his several books of travel. 1 

J 



INDIAN LEGENDS 



THE SHOOTINa METEORS. 

Among the Indians who live upon the north-eastern shore of Lake 
Huron, a remnant of the Iroquois, it is believed that the heavens con- 
tain only four meteors which have the power of shooting through the 
sky. It is thought they severally occupy the four quarters of the 
compass, and that they never perform their arrowy journey excepting 
for the pui'pose of warning the Huron Indians of approaching war. 
The meteors in question, or Pun gung-nung, are recognized by their 
peculiar brilliancy, and universally considered the Manitoes or guardian 
spirits of the entire Indian race. They came into existence at the 
same period of time which witnessed the creation of Lake Huron it- 
self, and the legend which accounts for their origin is distinguished for 
the wild and romantic fancies of the aborigines. I obtained it from a 
chief named On qwa-sug, or Floating Wood. 

It was the winter time, and an Indian with his wife and two children, 
a daughter and a son, were living in a wigwam on a bleak peninsula of 
the Grreat Lake. The game of that section of country had nearly all 
disappeared, and the fish were spending the season in such deep water, 
that it was quite impossible to secure any of them for food. Every- 
thing seemed to go wrong with the poverty-stricken Indian, and he 
was constantly troubled with the fear that the Master of Life intended 
to annihilate his family and himself by starvation. He expressed his 
anxiety to his wife, and was surprised to hear her answer him with a 
song. 

Nearly half a moon had passed away, and the sufferings of this un- 
fortunate family were melancholy in the extreme. Whole days did 
the father spend roaming through the forests, with his bow and arrows, 
and on four several evenings had he returned without even a pair of 
tiny snow-birds for a supper. The ill-luck which attended him in his 
expeditions made him very miserable, but he was frequently astonished 



190 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

and alarmed, on such occasions^ by the conduct of his wife and children. 
When he gave them an account of his ill-luck in obtaining game, in- 
stead of manifesting any anxiety, they usually ran about the wigwam 
with their fingers on their mouths, and uttering a singular moan. He 
noticed with fear that they were becoming greatly emaciated for the 
want of food. So deeply grieved was the poor man, that he almost re- 
solved to bury himself in the snow and die. He made a better reso- 
lution and again went out to hunt. 

On one occasion he had wandered into the woods to an unusual dis- 
tance, and, as fortune would have it, was successful in finding and 
shooting a single rabbit. With the speed of a deer did he return to 
his cabin (with his braided shoes over the crusted snow), but he now 
met with a new disappointment. On entering his lodge he found the 
fire entirely out, and the simple utensils for cooking all scattered about 
in great confusion; but what was far more melancholy, his wife and 
children were gone, and he knew not where to find them. The more 
he thought upon what had happened for many days past, the more be- 
wildered did he become. He threw down his game almost in despair, 
and hurried out of his cabin in search of his missing family. He 
looked in every direction, but could see no signs of their appearing, and 
the only noise that he could possibly hear was a singular and most 
doleful moan, resembling the wail of a loon, which seemed to come 
from the upper air. By a natural instinct he raised his eyes towards 
the heavens, and beheld perched upon the dry limb of a tall tree which 
stood a short distance ofi*, all the members of his family. He shouted 
with delight at the unexpected spectacle, and, rushing towards the tree, 
told his wife and children that they must come down, for he had killed 
a rabbit and they would now have a good feast. But again was he as- 
tonished to find his words unheeded. Again did he beseech them to 
come down, but they replied not a single word, and looked upon him 
with eyes that seemed made of fire. And what was still more won- 
derful it was evident that they had thrown aside their beaver and deer- 
skin dresses, and were now decked out in newly fashioned robes made 
of the fur of the white fisher and the white fox. All this was utterly 
inexplicable, and the poor husband re-entered his lodge, bewildered 
and perplexed to a marvelous degree. 



RECORDS OP A TOURIST. 191 

Then it was that the idea entered his head that he would try an ex- 
periment, by appealing to the hunger of his obstinate wife and children. 
He therefore cleaned the rabbit and boiled a sweet soup which he car- 
ried out, and with which he endeavored to allure his friends to the 
earth. But this attempt was all in vain. The mother and her children 
expressed no desire for the food, and still remained upon the tree, 
swaying to and fro like a flock of large birds. Again in his wretched- 
ness was he about to destroy himself, but he took the precaution to ap- 
propriate the soup to its legitimate purpose. Soon as this business 
"was accomplished, he relapsed into his former state of melancholy, 
from which he was suddenly aroused by the moans of his wife, which 
he was sure had an articulate tone. Again was he riveted to his stand- 
ing place under the magic tree, and from the moaning of his wife he 
gathered the following intelligence. She told him that the Master 
of Life had fallen in love with her and her two children, and had there- 
fore transformed them all into spirits, with a view of preparing them 
for a home in the sky. She also told him that they would not de- 
part for their future home until the coming spring, but would in the 
meantime roam in distant countries till the time of his own trans- 
portation should arrive. Having finished her communication, she and 
her children immediately commenced a song, which resembled the 
distant winds, when they all rose gracefully from the tree, and leaning 
forward upon the air, darted away across the lake toward the remote 
South. 

A cheerless and forlorn moon did the poor Indian spend in his 
lonely lodge on the margin of the Great Lake. Spring came, and just 
as the last vestige of snow had melted from the woods, and at the 
quiet evening hour, his spirit-wife again made her appearance , accom- 
panied by her two children. She told her husband that he might be- 
come a spirit by eating a certain berry. He was delighted with the 
idea, and, complying with her advice, he suddenly became transformed 
into a spirit, and having flown to the side of his wife and children, 
the party gradually began to ascend into the air, when the Master of 
Life thought proper to change them into a family of Shooting Stars. 
He allotted to each a particular division of the heavens, and com- 
manded them to remain there forever, as the guardians of the great 
nation of Lake Huron. 



192 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 



THE MAIDEN OF THE MOON. 

The following legend was obtained from the lips of a Chippeway woman 
named Penaqua, or the Female Pheasant, and I hardly know which to admire 
most, the simple beauty of the plot, or the graphic and unique manner of the 
narrative, of which, I regret to say, I can hardly give a faithful translation. 

Among the rivers of the North, none can boast of more numerous 
charms than the St. Louis, and the fairest spot of the earth which it 
waters is that where now stands the trading post of Fond du lac. Up- 
on this spot, many summers ago, there lived a Chippeway chief and 
his wife, who were the parents of an only daughter. Her name was 
Weesh — Ko-da-e-mire, or the Sweet Strawberry, and she was ac- 
knowledged to be the most beautiful maiden of her nation. Her 
voice was like that of the turtle-dove, and the red deer was not more 
graceful and sprightly in its form. Her eyes were brilliant as the 
star of the northern sky, which guides the hunter through the 
wilderness, and her dark hair clustered around her neck like grape 
vines around the trunk of the tree they loved. The young men of every 
nation had striven to win her heart, but she smiled upon none. Curi- 
ous presents were sent to her from the four quarters of the world, but 
she received them not. Seldom did she deign to reply to the many 
warriors who entered her father's lodge, and when she did, it was only 
to assure them that while upon earth she would never change her con- 
dition. Her strange conduct astonished them, but did not subdue 
their affection. Many and noble were the deeds they performed, not 
only in winning the white plumes of the eagle, but in hunting the 
elk and the black bear. But all their exploits availed them nothing, 
for the heart of the beautiful girl was still untouched. 

The snows of winter were all gone, and the pleasant winds of spring 
were blowing over the land. The time for making sugar had arrived, 
though the men had not yet returned from the remote hunting grounds. 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 193 

\ 
aud iu tlie maple forests bright fires were burning, and the fragrance 

of the sweet sap filled all the air. The ringing laugh of childhood and 
the mature song of women were heard in the valley^ but in no part of 
the wilderness could be found more happiness than on the banks of 
the St. Louis. But the Sweet Strawberry mingled with the young 
men and maidens of her tribe in a thoughtful mood and with down- 
cast eyes. She was evidently bowed down by some mysterious grief, 
but she neglected not her duties ; and though she spent much of her 
time alone, her buchere-bucket was as frequently filled with the sugar 
juice as any of her companions. 

Such was the condition of affairs when a party of young warriors 
from the far North came upon a frolic to the St. Louis River. Having 
seen the many handsome maidens of this region, the strangers became 
enamored of their charms, and each one succeeded in obtaining the 
love of a maiden, who was to become his bride during the marrying 
season of summer. 

The warriors had heard of the Sweet Strawberry, but, neglected by 
all of them, she was still doomed to remain alone. She witnessed the 
happiness of her old playmates, and, wondering at her own strange 
fate, spent much of her time in solitude. She even became so un- 
happy and bewildered that she heeded not the tender words of her 
mother, and from that time the music of her voice was never heard. 

The sugar making season was now rapidly passing away, but the 
brow of the Sweet Strawberry was still overshadowed with grief. 
Everything was done to restore her to her wonted cheerfulness, but she 
remained unchanged. Wild ducks in innumerable numbers arrived 
with every southern wind, and settled upon the surrounding waters, 
and proceeded to build their nests iu pairs, and the Indian maiden 
sighed over her mysterious doom. On one occasion she espied a clus- 
ter of early spring flowers peering above the dry leaves of the forest, 
and, strange to say, even these were separated into pairs, and seemed 
to be wooing each other in love. All things whispered to her of love, 
the happiness of her companions, the birds of the air, and the flowers. 
She looked into her heart, and, inwardly praying for a companion 
whom «he might love, the Master of Life took pity upon her lot and 
answered her prayer. 
17 



194 EECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

It was now the twilight hour, and in the maple woods the Indian 
boys were watching their fires, and the women were bringing in the 
sap from the surrounding trees. The time for making sugar was al- 
most gone, and the well-filled mokucks, which might be seen in all the 
wigwams, testified that the yield had been abundant. The hearts of the 
old women beat in thankfulness, and the young men and maidens 
were already beginning to anticipate the pleasures of wedded life and 
those associated with the sweet summer time. But the brow of the 
Sweet Strawberry continued to droop, and her friends looked upon her 
as the victim of a settled melancholy. Her duties, however, were 
performed without a murmur, and so continued to be performed until 
the trees refused to fill her buchere-bucket with sap, when she stole away 
from the sugar camp and wandered to a retired place to muse upon 
her sorrows. Her unaccountable grief was very bitter, but did not 
long endure; for, as she stood gazing upon the sky, the moon ascended 
above the hills and filled her soul with a joy she had never felt before. 
The longer she looked upon the brilliant object, the more deeply in 
love did she become with its celestial charms, and she burst forth into 
a song — a loud, wild, and joyous song. Her musical voice echoed 
through the woods, and her friends hastened to ascertain the cause. 
They gathered around her in crowds, but she heeded them not. They 
wondered at the wildness of her words, and the airy-like appearance 
of her form. They were spell-bound by the scene before them, but 
their astonishment knew no limits when they saw her gradually ascend 
from the earth into the air, where she disappeared, as if borne upward 
by the evening wind. And then it was that they discovered her clasped 
in the embraces of the moon, for they knew that the spots which they 
saw within the circle of that planet were those of her robe, which she 
had made from the skins of the spotted fawn. 

Many summers have passed away since the Sweet Strawberry be- 
came the Maiden of the Moon, yet among all the people of her nation 
is she ever remembered for her beauty and the mystery of her being. 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 195 



THE GHOSTLY MAN-EATER. 

There is an idea existing among the Chippeway Indians, which 
corroborates a statement made by the early travelers on this continent 
relative to the belief that there once existed among the aboriginal 
tribes, a species of vampire, or ghostly man-eater. The Chippeways 
do not assert that there ever lived more than one of these unearthly 
beings; but they pretend that such an one did, and does exist, and that 
he has his residence upon an island in the centre of Lake Superior 
— which island can never be seen by mortal man, excepting when 
darkness has settled upon the world. The stories they relate of his 
appearance and deeds, are horrible in the extreme, and resemble much 
the creations of a mind suffering under the influence of the nightmare. 
For example, they describe this monster as possessing the material 
appearance of the human form — -but of such a nature as not to be sus- 
ceptible to the touch. He is said to have the body of a serpent, with 
human legs and arms — all supplied with immense nails, which he em- 
ploys for the double purpose of digging up the earth, and dissecting 
the bodies upon which he feeds ; his head is like that of the wolf, and 
his teeth of a peculiar sharpness. 

The deeds which he performs are worthy of his personal appearance 
— 'and some of them are as follows : When the Indian mother, during 
a long journey, has lost her infant child, and placed it on the rude 
scaffold, that she may return to it at some future day, the Ghostly 
Man-Eater only waits until she is fairly out of his sight, and then pro- 
ceeds to the sacred place, and feasts himself upon the tender flesh and 
blood of his victim. And therefore it is, that the traveler sometimes 
sees, in the remote wilderness, fragments of human bones scattered on 
the ground, as if a wolf had been suddenly interrupted, while devour- 
ing his prey. But the Man-Eater sometimes enters the house, or half- 
buried receptacle of the dead ; and, after digging his way to the decay- 



196 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

ing body, coils himself up, as if in delight, and gluts his appetite with 
the unholy food. How it is that he travels, with lightning speed, 
from one distant place to another, has never been ascertained; but the 
strange sounds which the Indian occasionally hears, high in the air 
above his wigwam, is thought to be the song of the Man-Eater, as he 
hurries upon the wings of the wind, from a recent banquet, to his 
mysterious island on the lake. 

But I once heard a legend in the Chippeway country, which ac- 
counted for the origin of the man-eating monster — and I now record 
it in the English tongue, for the benefit of those who feel an interest 
in the mythology of the Indian, and the peculiarities of his mind. 
The individual from whom I obtained this story was named Ka-yon- 
kee-me, or the Swift Arrow; and his words, as near as we can remem- 
ber them, were as follows : — 

I ask the white man to listen. At an early period in the history of 
the world, an old Indian hunter and a little boy who was his grand- 
son, lived in an isolated cabin on the north shore of Lake Superior. 
They were the only remnants of a once powerful tribe of Indians, 
whose name is not now remembered. It was the middle of a long 
and dreary winter, and the entire country was covered with snow, to 
the height of the tallest wigwam. The section of country where re- 
sided the hunter and child was particularly desolate, and destitute of 
almost every species of game ; and whilst the former was too feeble to 
wander far, after the necessary food, the latter was too young and in- 
experienced. The very wood which the unequal pair collected to 
keep them warm, was brought to their cabin with the greatest diffi- 
culty ; and the thought occasionally entered the old man's mind, that 
the Great Spirit was about to give him up to the pains of starvation. 
He uttered not a murmur, however ; but, as he reflected upon his im- 
pending fate, he bit his lips with a scornful smile. 

One, two, and three days had passed away and the old man, as well 
as the child, had not tasted a particle of food. But, on the evening of 
the fourth day, the boy came tottering into the comfortless lodge and 
threw at the feet of his grandfather the lifeless body of a white part- 
ridge, which he had fortunately killed with his own arrow. Immedi- 
ately was the bird divested of its feathers — and, while yet its very 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 197 

blood was warnij it was devoured by tlie starving man and cliild. — 
Sweet was the slumber of the noble boy on that night — but^ as the 
story goes, that aged man was visited by a dreadful dream at the same 
time, which made him a maniac. 

Another day was nearly gone, and the unhappy pair were standing 
in front of their wigwam watching the western sky, as the sun enlivened 
it with his parting beams. The old man pointed to the bright pic- 
ture, and told the boy that there was the gateway to the Spirit Land, 
where perpetual summer reigned, and game was found in great abun- 
dance. He spoke too of the child's father and mother, and of his 
little brother, whom he described as decked out in the most beautiful 
of robes, as they wandered through the forests of that distant, shadowy 
land. The boy, though suffering with the pangs of hunger, clapped 
his little hands in glee, and told his grandfather that it would make 
him very happy if he could go to the land of perpetual summer. And 
then it was that the old man patted the boy upon his head, and told 
him that his desires should be realized before the sun again made its 
appearance above the snow-covered mountains and plains of the east. 

It was now the hour of midnight. Intensely cold was the wind 
which swept over the wilderness, but the sky was very blue, and stud- 
ded with many stars. No sound broke upon the air, save the oeca- 
Fional groan of the ice along the lake shore, and the hissing whispei* 
of the frost. Within the Indian lodge, which was the very home of 
desolation, the child was sweetly sleeping, enveloped in his robes, 
while the old man bent over the burning embers as if in despair. 
Some inhuman thought had crazed his brain, and he was nerving him- 
self for an unheard of crime. One moment more, and in the dim 
light of that lonely lodge, gleamed the polished blade of a flinty 
weapon — a sudden groan was heard — and the Indian maniac was feed- 
ing upon the body of his child. 

I have given the white man a sorrowful history, but it is one which 
the Chippeway nation believe. On the morning which followed the 
event I have now narrated, a party of Indian hunters came to the 
cabin of the unknown man, and they found him lying dead upon the 
ground, with the mangled remains of the boy at his side. This was 
the most terrible deed which ever happened in the Chippeway country 

17* 



198 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

— and the one which so greatly offended the Great Spirit^ that he 
pronounced a curse upon the man who had destroyed his child for 
food — and he, therefore^ doomed him to live upon the earth forever, 
tormented with an appetite which nothing can ever appease, hut the 
decaying flesh of the human race. 



KECOEDS OF A TOURIST. 199 



THE FIRE-WATER SACRIFICE. 

The historical tradition which I am now to narrate, is said to have 
occurred at an early day on the extreme western point of what is now 
called Drummond's Island, in the northern waters of Lake Huron. I 
obtained it from the lips of Kah-ge-ga-gah-howh, or Upright Standing , 
a young chief of the Chippeway nation, who assured me that it com- 
memorated the first introduction of the baneful Fire-water into the 
Indian country. 

It was the afternoon of a pleasant day in the autumn-time, when a 
trading canoe landed on Drummond's Island, in the immediate vicinity 
of a Chippeway village. It belonged to a French trader, and was 
laden with a barrel of whisky, which he had brought from the lower 
country. Soon as he had deposited his barrel upon the beach, he 
called together the men of the village, and told them that he had it in 
his power to supply them with a beverage which would make them 
exceedingly happy, and that he was willing to supply them with what 
they wanted, provided they would give into his hands all the furs they 
had in their possession. A bargain was consequently made, and while 
the entire population of the village were quaffing the baneful fire-water, 
the trader packed away his treasures in the canoe, and under cover of 
the night, started upon his return to Detroit. 

The moon and stars came forth in the northern sky, and the only 
sound which broke the solitude of the wilderness issued from the In- 
dian village, where the medicine man and the chief, the Indian mother 
and her infant, were shouting and dancing and fighting in a delirium 
of madness. The carousal did not end until the break of day, and 
soon as the sun was ftiirly risen above the horizon, it was rumored in 
every wigwam that a young hunter named Ne-mo-a-Kim, or Purple 
Shell, had taken the life of a brother hunter, who happened to be his 
dearest friend. An apparent gloom rested upon every countenance, 



200 RECORDS OF A TOURIST, 

and as the more aged Indians reflected upon tlie sudden disappearance 
of the trader^ and upon the headache which many of them endured, 
they became greatly enraged, and attributed the calamity which had 
befallen them to the burning water. But the trader who had brought 
it to them was beyond their reach; so they buried the murdered man 
with appropriate honors, and then announced that a council should be 
immediately held to decide upon the fate of the murderer. Blood for 
blood was demanded by the relatives of the deceased; the time-honored 
law of the Chippeways could not be evaded, and a delegation was 
appointed to prepare Ne-mo-a-Kim for the sacrifice. His lodge was 
entered by the ministers of death, but Ne-mo-a-Kim was not there. 
They hunted for him in all the wigwams of the village, but nowhere 
could he be found. The old men who had suffered with him in the 
remote wilderness, and had never known him to be guilty of a cowardly 
deed, now shook their heads in sorrow and disappointment. Another 
council was held, another ancient law remembered, and it was again 
decided that the only relative and brother of Ne-mo-a-Kim should 
suffer in his stead. The name of that brother was Ma-Ko-nah, or 
The Unhending Pine, and when they informed him of his fate, he 
uttered not a murmur, but demanded that his execution should take 
place on the following night at the rising of the moon. 

And now for another scene in our strange story. The sun has long- 
been absent from the western sky, and once more has the solemn mid- 
night settled upon the world. The inhabitants of the Indian village 
have assembled upon a level green. Firmly in the earth have they 
planted a stake, on either side of which are burning a couple of huge 
fires, while at the distance of about one hundred feet may be discerned 
a crowd of eight or ten young men, who are bending their bows and 
straightening their arrows for the cruel deed. A small white cloud 
makes its appearance above the horizon, and a murmur of excitement 
issues from the crowd of human beings. The proud form of an Indian 
is now seen marching across the green, when the name of Ma-Ko-nah 
is whispered from ear to ear, and an unearthly shout ascends into the 
upper air. The heroic man stands before the stake, and looks with 
scorn upon the withes lying at his feet. The people have confided in 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 201 

liis bravery, and they will not humble his proud spirit by resorting to 
the disgraceful implements of security. Upon his naked breast has 
the Indian hero painted the uncouth figure of a swan, as a certain 
mark for the arrows which are to deprive him of life. Around his 
waist has he carefully adjusted his richest robe, and by a motion of 
his hand, has signified his intention of delivering a speech ; an intense 
silence reigns throughout the surrounding multitude, and Ma-Ko-nah 
thus addresses his cowardly brother, whose spirit he imagines to be 
hovering near. 

"Willingly do I die for you, my brother, but you have disgraced 
your nation. Your name will hereafter be hissed at by the little boys, 
when they pick up the purple shells on the lake shore. I am going 
to the Spirit Land, and while I shall be happy in the possession of 
every good, you will be despised by all who learn your history. Your 
food will be bitter, and the ground upon which you will have to sleep 
will always be uneven, and covered with thorns and stones. You are 
a coward, my brother ; but Ma-Ko-nah is a brave man, and not afraid 
to die." 

Loud and long was the shout which replied to this proud speech. 
All things were now ready, and the fatal moment, when the rim of 
the moon should appear above the distant waters, was nigh at hand. 
Another snowy cloud floated into view, and just as the signal to fire was 
about to be given by the great medicine man, Ne-mo-a-Kim suddenly 
burst through the crowd, and threw himself upon the ground before his 
brother Ma-Ko-nah. To describe the confusion which followed were 
quite impossible. It were sufficient to know that Ma-Ko-nah was 
released from his obligation, and while he was to continue in the land 
of the living, his repentant brother was to perish. But though he 
now yielded himself as a willing sacrifice, his integrity had been 
doubted, and the lately untouched thongs were used to bind him to 
the stake. All things were again ready, the signal was given, the 
loud twang of the bow-strings pulled at the same instant was heard, 
and the Chippeway murderer was weltering in his own blood. 

The night was far spent, the silence of the grave rested upon the 
wilderness village, and all the Indians, save one, were asleep in their 



202 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

wigwams. But Ma-Ko-nah was filled with grief, and the remaining 
hours of that night did he spend in his lodge^ mourning over the body 
of his unfortunate and only brother. His father and mother were 
both dead, and so also was his wife, and the heart of Ma-Ko-nah was 
very desolate. So endeth the story of The Fire- Water Sacrifice. 



RECOKDS OF A TOURIST. 20*3 



ORIGIN OF THE CATAWBA INDIANS. 

There was a time when the world was an unbroken waste of rocks^ 
hills, and mountains, save only one small valley, which was distin- 
guished for its luxuriance, and where reigned a perpetual summer. At 
that time, too, the only human being who inhabited the earth was a 
woman, whose knowledge was confined to this valley, and who is re- 
membered among the Catawbas as the mother of mankind. She lived 
in a cavern, and her food consisted of the honey of flowers, and the 
sweet berries and other fruits of the wilderness. Birds without num- 
ber, and the wild streams which found a resting place in the valley, 
made the only music which she ever heard. Among the wild animals, 
which were very numerous about her home, she wandered without any 
danger ; but the beaver and the doe were her favorite companions. In 
personal appearance she was eminently beautiful, and the lapse of 
years only had a tendency to increase the brightness of her eyes and 
the grace of her movements. The dress she wore was made of those 
bright green leaves which enfold the water lilies, and her hair was as 
long as the grass which fringed the waters of her native vale. She 
was the ruling spirit of a perennial world, for even the very flowers 
which bloomed about her sylvan home were never known to wither or 
die. In spite of her lonely condition, she knew not what it was to be 
lonely ; but ever and anon a strange desire found its way to her heart, 
which impelled her to explore the wild country which surrounded her 
home. For many days had she resisted the temptation to become a 
wanderer from her charming valley, until it so happened, on a certain 
morning, that a scarlet butterfly made its appearance before the door 
of her cave, and by the hum of its wings invited her away. She 
obeyed the summons, and followed the butterfly far up a rocky ravine, 
until she came to the foot of a huge waterfall, when she was deserted 
by her mysterious pilot, and first became acquainted with the emotion 



204 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

of fear. Her passage of the ravine had been comparatively smooth j 
but when she endeavored^ in her consternation, to retrace her steps, 
she found her efforts unavailing, and fell to the ground in despair. A 
deep sleep then overcame her senses, from which she was not awakened 
until the night was far spent ; and then the dampness of the dew had 
fallen upon her soft limbs, and for the first time in her life did she feel 
the pang of a bodily pain. Forlorn and desolate indeed was her con- 
dition, and she felt that some great event was about to happen, when, 
as she uncovered her face and turned it to the sky, she beheld, bend- 
ing over her prostrate form, and clothed in a cloud-like robe, the image 
of a being somewhat resembling herself, only that he was more stoutly 
made, and of a much fiercer aspect. Her first emotion at this strange 
discovery was that of terror; but as the mysterious being looked upon 
her in kindness, and raised her lovingly from the ground, she confided 
in his protection, and listened to his words until the break of day. 

He told her that he was a native of the far off sky, and that he had 
discovered her in her forlorn condition while traveling from the evening 
to the morning star. He told her also that he had never before seen 
a being so soft and beautifully formed as she. In coming to her rescue 
he had broken a command of the Grreat Spirit, or the Master of Life, 
and, as he was afraid to return to the sky, he desired to spend his days 
in her society upon earth. With joy did she accept this proposal ; 
and, as the sun rose above the distant mountains, the twain returned 
in safety to the luxuriant vale, where, as man and woman, for many 
moons, they lived and loved in perfect tranquillity and joy. 

In process of time the woman became a mother; from which time 
the happiness of the twain became more intense, but they at the same 
time endured more troubles than they had ever known before. The 
man was unhappy because he had offended the Master of Life, and the 
mother was anxious about the comfort and happiness of her newly -born 
child. Many and devout were the prayers they offered to the Great 
Spirit for his guidance and protection, for they felt that from them were 
to be descended a race of beings more numerous than the stars of 
heaven. The Great Spirit had compassion on these lone inhabitants 
of the earth ; and, in answer to their prayers, he caused a mighty wind 
to pass over the world, making the mountains crowd closely together, 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 205 

and rendering the world more usefid and beautiful by the prairies and 
valleys and rivers which now cover it, from the rising to the setting 
sun. The Master of Life also told his children that he would give 
them the earth and all that it contained as their inheritance ; but that 
they should never enjoy their food without labor, should be annually 
exposed to a season of bitter cold, and that their existence should be 
limited by that period of time when their heads should become as white 
as the plumage of the swan. And so endeth the words of the Ca- 
tawba. 



18 



206 RECORDS or A TOURIST. 



THE LONG CHASE. 

It was a summer day, and my birchen canoe, paddled by a party of 
Chippeway Indians, was gliding along the southern shore of Lake 
Superior. We had left the Apostle Islands, and were wending our 
way towards the mouth of the Ontonagon, where we intended to spend 
the night. Behind us reposed in beauty the Emerald Islands, in our 
front appeared the Porcupine Mountains, the sky above was without a 
cloud, and the waste of sleeping waters was only broken by the pre- 
sence of a lonely swan, which seemed to be following in our wake, ap- 
parently for the sake of our companionship. I was delighted with the 
scene which surrounded me, and having requested my comrades to 
refill their pipes from my tobacco-pouch, I inquired for an adventure 
or a story connected with this portion of the lake. I waited but for a 
moment, when the chief of the party, 0-gee-maic-ge-zhick, or Chief 
of the Sky, signified his intention by a sudden exclamation, and pro- 
ceeded with the following historical tradition : 

The Indian warrior of other days seldom thought that distance 
ought to be considered when he went forth to battle against his ene- 
mies, provided he was certain of winning the applause of his fellow 
men. Fatigue and hunger were alike looked upon as unimportant 
considerations, and both endured without a murmur. 

The white man had not yet become the owner of this wilderness, 
and our nation was at war with the Iroquois, who had invaded our 
territory. At this time it was that a party of six Iroquois runners had 
been sent by their leading chiefs from Ke-wa-we-non, on the southern 
shore of Lake Superior, to examine the position of the Chippeways, 
who were supposed to be on an island called Moo-ne-quah-na-kon-ing. 
The spies having arrived opposite to the island where their enemies 
were encamped (which island was about three miles from the main 
shore "), they built a war-canoe out of the bark of an elm-tree, launched 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 207 

it at the hour of midnight, and, having implored the god of war to 
smile upon them and keep the lake in peace, they landed on the 
island, and were soon prowling through the village of the unconscious 
Chippeways. 

They were so cautious in all their movements, that their footsteps 
did not even awaken the sleeping dogs. It so happened, however, 
that they were discovered, and that, too, by a young woman, who, 
according to ancient custom, was leading a solitary life previous to be- 
coming a mother. In her wakefulness she saw them pass near her 
lodge and heard them speak, but could not understand their words, 
though she thought them to be of the Na-do-was tribe. When they 
had passed, she stole out of her own wigwam to that of her aged 
grandmother, whom she informed of what she had seen and heard. 
The aged woman only reprimanded her daughter for her imprudence, 
and did not heed her words. " But, mother," replied the girl, " I 
speak the truth ; the dreaded Na-do-was are in our village ; and if the 
warriors of the Buffalo Race do not heed the story of a foolish girl, 
their women and their children must perish." The words of the girl 
were finally believed, and the warriors of the Crane and Buffalo tribes 
prepared themselves for the capture. The war-whoop echoed to the 
sky ; and the rattling of bows and arrows was heard in every part of 
the island. In about an hour, the main shore was lined with about 
eight hundred canoes, whose occupants were anxiously waiting for the 
appearance of the spies. These desperate men, however, had made up 
their minds to try the mettle of their oars to the utmost, and, as the 
day was breaking, they launched their canoe from a woody cove, shot 
round the island, and started in the direction of the Porcupine 
Mountains, which were about sixty miles distant. Soon as they came 
in sight of the Chippeways, the latter became quite frantic, and, giving 
their accustomed yell, the whole multitude started after them swift as 
the flight of gulls. The mighty lake was without a ripple ; and the 
beautiful fish in its bosom wandered about their rocky haunts in per- 
fect peace, unconscious of the dreadful strife which was going on 
above. The canoes of the pursued and the pursuers moved with magic 
speed. The Iroquois were some two miles ahead, and while they 
strained every nerve for life, one voice rose high into the air, with a 



208 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

song of invocation to the spirits of their race for protection ; and^ in 
answer to their petition^ a thick fog fell upon the water, and caused 
great confusion. One of the Chippeway warriors laid down his pad- 
dlc; seized his mysterious rattle (made of deer's hoof), and, in a 
strange, wild song, implored the spirits of his race to clear away the 
fog, that they might only see their enemies. The burthen of the song- 
was : — 

" Mon e-tou ne bah bah me tah wah 
Ke shig ne bah bah me tah goon 
Ah bee ne nah wah goom me goon 
Men ke che dah awas — awas." 

Which may he translated as follows : — 

" Spirit ! whom I have always obeyed, 
Here cause the skies now to obey, 
And place the waters in our power. 
We are warriors — away, away." 

Just as the last strain died upon the air, the fog quickly rolled away, 
and the Iroquois spies were discovered hastening towards the shore, 
near Montreal river. Then came the fog again, and then departed, 
in answer to the conflicting prayers of the nations. Long and awfully 
exciting was the race. But the Great Spirit was the friend of the 
Chippeway, and just as the Iroquois were landing on the beach, four 
of them were pierced with arrows, and the remaining two taken pri- 
soners. A council was then called, for the purpose of deciding what 
should be done with them ; and it was determined that they should 
be tortured at the stake. They were fastened to a tree, and surrounded 
with wood, when, just as the torch was to be applied, an aged warrior 
stepped forth from the crowd of spectators, and thus addressed the 
assembly : — 

" Why are you to destroy these men ? They are brave warriors, 
but not more distinguished than we are. We can gain no benefit 
from their death. Why will you not let them live, that they may go 
and tell their people of our power, and that our warriors are numerous 
as the stars of the northern sky." The council pondered upon the old 
man's advice, and there was a struggle between their love of revenge 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 209 

and love of glory; but both became victorious. One of the spies was 
released, and, as he ascended a narrow valley, leading to the Porcupine 
Mountains, the fire was applied to the dry wood piled round the form 
of the other ; and in the darkness of midnight, and amid the shouting 
of his cruel enemies, the body of the Iroquois prisoner was consumed 
to ashes. The spot where the sacrifice took place has been riven by 
many a thunderbolt since then, for the god of war was displeased with 
the faintheartedness of the Chippeway, in valuing a name more highly 
than the privilege of revenge ) and the same summer, of the following 
year, which saw the humane Chippeway buried on the shore of Su- 
perior, also saw the remains of the pardoned spy consigned to the 
earth on the shore of Michigan. 

Thus endeth the legend of Shah-gah-wah-mik, one of the Apostle 
Islands, which the French named La Pointe, and which was originally 
known as Moo-ne-quah-na-kon-ing. The village stood where the old 
trading establishment is now located ; and among the greenest of the 
graves in the hamlet of La Pointe is that where lie the remains of the 
Indian girl who exposed herself to reproach for the purpose of saving 
her people. 



18* 



210 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 



THE LONE BUFFALO. 

Among the legends which the traveler frequently hears, while cross- 
ing the prairies of the Far West, I remember one which accounts in 
a most romantic manner for the origin of thunder. A summer-storm 
was sweeping over the land, and I had sought a temporary shelter in 
the lodge of a Sioux, or Dahcotah Indian on the banks of the St. 
Peters. Vividly flashed the lightning, and an occasional peal of 
thunder echoed through the firmament. While the storm continued 
my host and his family paid but little attention to my comfort, for 
they were all evidently stricken with terror. I endeavored to quell 
their fears, and for that purpose asked them a variety of questions 
respecting their people, but they only replied by repeating, in a dismal 
tone, the name of the Lone Buffalo. My curiosity was of course ex- 
cited, and it may be readily imagined that I did not resume my jour- 
ney without obtaining an explanation of the mystic words ; and from 
him who first uttered them in the Sioux lodge I subsequently obtain- 
ed the following legend :— • 

There was a chief of the Sioux nation whose name was the Master 
Bear. He was famous as a prophet and hunter, and was a particular 
favorite with the Master of Life. In an evil hour he partook of the 
white man's fire-water, and in a fighting broil unfortunately took the 
life of a brother chief. According to ancient custom blood was de- 
manded for blood, and when next the Master Bear went forth to hunt, 
he was waylaid, shot through the heart with an arrow, and his body 
deposited in front of his widow's lodge. Bitterly did the woman be- 
wail her misfortune, now mutilating her body in the most heroic man- 
ner, and anon narrating to her only son, a mere infant, the prominent 
events of her husband's life. Night came, and with her child lashed 
upon her back, the woman erected a scaffold on the margin of a neigh- 
boring stream, and with none to lend her a helping hand, enveloped 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 211 

the corpse in her more valuable robes, and fastened it upon tlie scaifold. 
She completed her task just as the day was breaking, when she re- 
turned to her lodge, and shutting herself therein, spent the three fol- 
lowing days without tasting food. 

During her retirement the widow had a dream, in which she was 
visited by the Master of Life. He endeavored to console her in her 
sorrow, and for the reason that he had loved her husband, promised 
to make her son a more famous warrior and medicine man than his 
father had been. And what was more remarkable, this prophecy was 
to be realized within the period of a few weeks. She told her story in 
the village, and was laughed at for her credulity. 

On the following day, when the village boys were throwing the ball 
upon the plain, a noble youth suddenly made his appearance among 
the players, and eclipsed them all in the bounds he made and the wild- 
ness of his shouts. He was a stranger to all, but when the widow's 
dream was remembered, he was recognized as her son, and treated with 
respect. But the youth was yet without a name, for his mother had 
told him that he should win one for himself by his individual prowess. 

Only a few days had elapsed, when it was rumored that a party of 
Pawnees had overtaken and destroyed a Sioux hunter, when it was im- 
mediately determined in council that a party of one hundred warriors 
should start upon the war-path and revenge the injury. Another 
council was held for the purpose of appointing a leader, when a young 
man suddenly entered the ring and claimed the privilege of leading 
the way. His authority was angrily questioned, but the stranger 
only replied by pointing to the brilliant eagle's feathers on his head, 
and by shaking from his belt a large number of fresh Pawnee scalps. 
They remembered the stranger boy, and acknowledged the supremacy 
of the stranger man. 

Night settled upon the prairie world, and the Sioux warriors started 
upon the war-path. Morning dawned, and a Pawnee village was in 
ashes, and the bodies of many hundred men, women, and children 
were left upon the ground as food for the wolf and vulture. The Sioux 
warriors returned to their own encampment, when it was ascertained 
that the nameless leader had taken more than twice as many scalps as 
his brother warriors. Then it was that a feeling of jealousy arose. 



212 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

which was soon quieted, however, by the news that the Crow Indians 
had stolen a number of horses and many valuable furs from a Sioux 
hunter as he was returning from the mountains. Another warlike 
expedition was planned, and as before, the nameless warrior tooli the 
lead. 

The sun was near his setting, and as the Sioux party looked down 
upon a Crow village, which occupied the centre of a charming valley, 
the Sioux chief commanded the attention of his braves and addressed 
them in the following language : 

^' I am about to die, my brothers, and must speak my mind. To 
be fortunate in war is your chief ambition, and because I have been 
successful you are unhappy. Is this right ? Have you acted like 
men ? I despise you for your meanness, and I intend to prove to you 
this night that I am the bravest man in the nation. The task will 
cost me my life, but I am anxious that my nature should be changed 
and I shall be satisfied. I intend to enter the Crow village alone, but 
before departing, I have one favor to command. If I succeed in de- 
stroying that village, and lose my life, I want you, when I am dead, 
to cut off my head and protect it with care. You must then kill one 
of the largest buffaloes in the country and cut off his head. You must 
then bring his body and my head together, and breathe upon them, 
when I shall be free to roam in the Spirit-land at all times, and over 
our great prairie-land wherever I please. And when your hearts are 
troubled with wickedness remember the Lone Buffalo." 

The attack upon the Crow village was successful, but according to 
his prophecy the Lone Buffalo received his death wound, and his 
brother warriors remembered his parting request. The fate of the 
hero's mother is unknown, but the Indians believe that it is she who 
annually sends from the Spirit land the warm winds of spring, which 
cover the prairies with grass for the sustenance of the Buffalo race. 
As to the Lone Buffalo, he is never seen even by the most cunning 
hunter, excepting when the moon is at its full. At such times he is 
invariably alone, cropping his food in some remote part of the prairies; 
and whenever the heavens resound with the meanings of the thunder, 
the rod man banishes from his breast every feeling of jealousy, for he 
believes it to be the warning: voice of the Lone Buffalo. 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 213 



LEGENDS OF MACKINAW. 

The original Indian name of this island was Mich-il-i-mack-i-nack, 
signifying the mammoth turtle. It is a beautiful spot of earth, and 
its origin is accounted for by the following Ottaway legend : — 

When the world was in its infancy, and all the living creatures were 
wandering over its surface from their several birth-places, for a perma- 
nent home, it so happened that a multitude of turtles came to the 
southern shore of Lake Erie. They found the country generally level, 
and were delighted with the muddy waters of the lake, and also with 
the many stagnant rivers and ponds which they discovered in its vici- 
nity. But while the race were generally satisfied with their discove- 
ries, and willing to remain where they were, the mammoth leader of 
the multitude resolved upon extending his journey to the north. He 
was allured to this undertaking by a strange light of exceeding loveli- 
ness (supposed to be the Aurora Borealis), which he had frequently 
observed covering the horizon. He endeavored to obtain a few com- 
panions for his intended pilgrimage, but without success. This dis- 
appointment did not dishearten him, however, and as he remembered 
that the summer was only half gone, he determined to depart alone. 
Long and very circuitous was his journey, and many, beautiful and 
lonely, the bayous and swamps where he frequently tarried to rest 
himself and obtain refreshment. Summer, and nearly the whole of 
autumn were now passed, and the traveling turtle found himself on a 
point of land which partially divided the two lakes of Huron and 
Michigan. Already he had been numbed by chilly winds, but his 
ambition was so great that he still persisted in his foolish pilgrimage. 
The day on which he made his final launch upon the waters, was par- 
ticularly cold and desolate, and it so happened that in the course of 
a few days his career was stopped by the formation of an icy barrier, 



214 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

wliicb deprived him of life and left him, a little black spot, on the waste 
of frozen waters. 

Spring returned once more, but while the ice gradually dissolved 
itself into beautiful blue waves, the shell of the turtle was fastened to 
a marine plant or tall reed, and in process of time became an island, 
which the Indians appropriately named Mich-il-i-mack-i-nack, or the 
Mammoth Turtle. 

The individual from whom I obtained the above story was an Otta- 
way Indian ; and he told it to me as we sat together on the brow of the 
arched rock which has, from time immemorial, been considered the 
principal natural curiosity of Mackinaw. The following legend I ob- 
tained from the same source, and, like the majority of Indian stories, it 
is uncouth and unnatural ; but interesting for the reason that it bears a 
curious analogy to a certain passage in the Old Testament. But this 
remark is applicable, I believe, to the early traditions of nearly all the 
aboriginal nations of North America. But to the tradition : — 

Very many winters ago, the sun was regularly in the habit of per- 
forming his daily circuit across the heavens, and when the stars made 
their appearance in the sky, he invariably descended into an immense 
hole supposed to be located in the remote west. But in process of time 
it so happened that a chief of the Ottaways committed an unheard of 
crime against the person of his only daughter, and the Master of Life 
became so offended, that he caused a mighty wind to come upon the 
earth, whereby the rocky hills were made to tremble, and the waters 
which surrounded them to roar with a dreadful noise. During this 
state of things, which lasted for one whole day, the sun shot through 
the heavens with an unsteady motion, and when it had reached the 
zenith suddenly became fixed, as if astonished at the red man's wick- 
edness. All the people of the Ottaway nation were greatly alarmed 
at this phenomenon, and while they were gazing upon the luminary, 
it gradually changed into the color of blood, and with a dreadful noise, 
as if in a passion, it fell upon the earth. It struck the northern shore 
of Mackinaw, formed the cavity of the Arched Rock, and so entered 
the earth, from which it issued in the far east, at an early hour on the 
following morning, and then resumed its usual journey across the 
heavens. 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 215 

Many, very many winters have passed away since the last men- 
tioned incident occurred, and it is true that even the present race of 
Indians can seldom be persuaded to approach the brow of the Arched 
Rock. Never have I heard of one who was sufl&ciently bold to walk 
over the arch, though the feat might be easily accomplished by any 
man with a steady nerve. The shores of the island of Mackinaw are 
almost entirely abrupt — and their general altitude is about one hun- 
dred and fifty feet; but the summit of the Arched Rock has been 
estimated to be at least two hundred feet above the water. In con- 
nection with the above stories, I might introduce a description of the 
island they commemorate, but such a description has already been 
published in my ^' Summer in the Wilderness.'^ 



216 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 



GREEN-CORN CEREMONIES OF THE CHEROKEES. 

My main object Id tlie present paper is to record a complete account 
of the ceremonies which were once practised by the Cherokee Indians, 
in connection with their principal agricultural pursuit of raising maize 
or Indian corn. For the great majority of my facts I am indebted to 
Mr. Preston Starritt, of Tennessee. "While this is the case, how- 
ever, I beg my readers to understand that I shall speak of the tribe in 
question as it existed in the times of old, when its members were the 
sole proprietors of the southern Alleghanies. Let us, then, banish 
from our minds the unhappy relations which brood over the Cherokees 
at the present time, and, by the aid of our fancy, mingle with the 
nation as it existed when in its pristine glory. 

The snows of winter have melted from the mountain peaks, the 
rains are over and gone, the frosts are out of the ground, and the 
voice of the turtle is heard in the land. The beautiful valley to which 
we have journeyed is entirely surrounded with mountains, about five 
miles square, watered by a charming stream, and inhabited by two 
thousand aborigines, who are divided into seven clans, and located in 
seven villages. The ruling men of the tribe have signified to their 
people that the period for planting corn has arrived, and that they 
must gather themselves together for the purpose of submitting to the 
annual ceremonies of purification. For doing this they have a double 
object: they would, in the first place, expunge from their bodies every 
vestige of all the colds and diseases with which they may have been 
afflicted during the past winter ; and, in the second place, they would 
propitiate the G-reat Spirit, so as to secure his blessing upon the crops 
which they are about to deposite in the ground. The moon being 
now at its full, and a fitting location having been selected, the chiefs 
and magicians congregate together, and the preliminary measures are 
thus managed. A magic circle is made to keep out all evil spirits 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 217 

and enemieSj and the medicine men then proceed to walk in single file, 
and with measured steps, completely around the spot which they would 
render sacred, and which is generally half a mile in diameter, mark- 
ing their route by plucking a single leaf from every tree or bush 
which they may happen to pass, all these leaves being carefully de- 
posited in a pouch carried for the purpose. In the mean time, the 
brotherhood of chiefs have not been unemployed, for while the most 
aged individual of all has been making a collection of roots, the re- 
mainder have built a rude dam, and thereby formed a pond or pool of 
water on the creek which invariably waters the sacred enclosure. The 
entire population of the valley are now summoned to the outskirts of 
the sacred enclosure, and a general invitation extended to all to ap- 
proach and join the chiefs and magicians in the rite they are about to 
perform; it being understood, however, that no man, under penalty of 
death, shall venture to participate who has left a single wrong unre- 
venged or committed any unmanly deed, and no woman who has given 
birth to a child since the preceding full moon. In the centre of the 
sacred ground, and in the vicinity of the pool, a large fire is now 
made, around which the multitude are congregated. The night is 
clear, and the moon and stars are flooding the earth with light. An 
earthen pot is now placed upon the fire, the roots gathered by the old 
chief, numbering seven varieties, are placed therein, also the leaves 
plucked by the magicians, when the pot is filled with water by seven 
virgins, who are promoted to this honor by the appointment of the 
senior chief. After the contents of the pot have been thoroughly 
boiled, and a most bitter but medicinal beverage been made, all the 
persons present are called upon to take seven sips of the bitter liquid, 
and then directed to bathe no less than seven times in the neighboring 
pool, the waters of which have been rendered sacred by the incanta- 
tions of the priests. All these things being done, the multitude as- 
semble around the fire once more, and, to the music of a strange wild 
singing, they dance until the break of day, and then disperse to their 
several homes. The friendship of the Great Spirit has now been 
secured, and therefore, as opportunity ofi"ers, the Indians proceed to 
loosen their ground, as best they may, and then plant their corn. 
This labor is performed chiefly by the women, and the planted fields 
19 



218 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

are considered as under their especial charge. Though planted in the 
greatest disorder, they keep their cornfields entirely free of weeds, aud 
the soil immediately around the corn in a loose condition. At every 
full moon they are commonly apprehensive that some calamity may 
befall their crop, and, by way of keeping the Great Spirit on their side, 
the women have a custom of disrobing themselves, at the dead hour of 
night, and of walking entirely around the field of corn. 

And now that the sunshine and showers of summer are performing 
their ministry of good in bringing the corn to its wonted perfection, 
it may be well to make the reader acquainted with the following facts : 
As the Indians purify themselves and perform all their religious rites 
only when the moon is at its full, so do they refrain from plucking a 
single ear of corn until they have partaken of their annual harvest or 
green-corn feast. This feast occurs on that night of the full moon 
nearest to the period when the corn becomes ripe ; and, by a time- 
honored law of the nation, no man, woman, or child is ever permitted, 
under penalty of death, to pluck a single roasting-ear. So rigidly en- 
forced is this law that many Cherokees are known to have lost their 
lives for disobeying it, while many families have sufiered the pangs of 
hunger for many days, even while their fields were filled with corn, 
merely because the harvest moon had not yet arrived, and they had 
not partaken of their annual feast. If a full moon should occur only 
one week after the corn has become suitable to pluck, the Indians will 
not touch a single ear until the next moon, even if it should then be 
so hard as to require pounding before becoming suitable for food. 
During the ripening period the cornfields are watched with jealous 
care, and the first stalk that throws out its silken plume is designated 
by a distinguishing mark. In assigning reasons for this peculiar care, 
the Indians allege that until the harvest feast has taken place the corn 
is exclusively the property of the Great Spirit, and that they are only 
its appointed guardians ; and they also maintain that, when the corn is 
plucked before the appointed moon has arrived, the field which has thus 
been trespassed upon is sure to be prostrated by a storm or be afilicted 
with the rot ; and wherefore it is that they are always greatly alarmed 
Avhen they discover that a cornfield has been touched, as they say, by 
the Evil One. 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 219 

But the harvest moon is now near at hand^ and the chiefs and medi- 
cine men have summoned the people of the several villages to prepare 
themselves for the autumnal festival. Another spot of ground is selected, 
and the same sanctifying ceremony is performed that was performed in 
the previous spring. The most expert hunter in each village has been 
commissioned to obtain game, and while he is engaged in the hunt the 
people of his village are securing the blessing of the Great Spirit by 
drinking, with many mystic ceremonies, the liquid made from seven 
of the most bitter roots to be found among the mountains. Of all 
the game which may be obtained by the hunters, not a single animal 
is to be served up at the feast whose bones have been broken or muti- 
lated ; nor shall a rejected animal be brought within the magic circle, 
but shall be given to those of the tribe who, by some misdeed, have 
rendered themselves unworthy to partake of the feast. The hunters 
are always compelled to return from the chase at the sunset hour, and 
long before they come in sight of their villages they invariably give a 
shrill whistle, as a signal of good luck, whereupon the villagers make 
ready to receive them with a wild song of welcome and rejoicing. 

The pall of night has once more settled upon the earth, the moon 
is in its glory, the watch-fire has been lighted within the magic circle, 
and the inhabitants of the valley are again assembled together in one 
great multitude. From all the cornfields in the valley the magicians 
have collected the marked ears of corn, and deposited them in the 
kettles with the various kinds of game which may have been slaughtered, 
from the bear, the deer, and the turkey, to the opossum, the squirrel, 
and the quail. The entire night is devoted to eating, and the feast 
comes not to an end until all the food has been dispatched, when, in 
answer to an appropriate signal from the medicine men, the bones which 
have been stripped of their flesh are collected together and pounded 
to a kind of powder, and scattered through the air. The seven days 
following this feast are devoted to dancing and carousing, and at the 
termination of this period the inhabitants of the valley retire to their 
various villages, and proceed to gather in their crops of the sweet 
maize or Indian corn. 



220 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 



THE OYERFLOWING WATERS. 

A TRADITION OF THE CHOC TAWS. 

The world was in its prime, and time rolled on witli its accustomed 
regularity. The tiny streams among the hills and mountains shouted 
with joy, and the broad rivers wound their wonted course along the 
peaceful valleys. Many a tall oak had grown from the acorn, spread 
its rich foilage to the summer winds, decayed with age, and mingled 
with its mother earth. The moon and stars had long made the night- 
skies beautiful, and guided the Indian hunter through the wilderness. 
The sun, which the red man calls the glory of the summer time, had 
never failed to appear at his appointed periods. Many generations of 
men had lived and passed away. 

In process of time the aspect of the world became changed. Bro- 
ther quarreled with brother, and cruel wars frequently covered the 
earth with blood. The G-reat Spirit saw all these things and was dis- 
pleased. A terrible wind swept over the wilderness, and the red men 
knew that they had done wrong, but they lived as if they did not care. 
Finally a stranger prophet made his appearance among them, and 
proclaimed in every village" the news that the human race was to be 
destroyed. None believed his words, and the moons of summer again 
came and disappeared. It was now the autumn of the year. Many 
cloudy days had occurred, and then a total darkness came upon the 
earth, and the sun seemed to have departed forever. It was very 
dark and very cold. Men laid themselves down to sleep, but they 
were troubled with unhappy dreams. They arose when they thought 
it was time for the day to dawn, but only to see the sky covered with 
a darkness deeper than the heaviest cloud. The moon and stars had 
all disappeared, and there was constantly a dismal bellowing of thun- 
der in the upper air. Men now believed that the sun would never 
return, and there was great consternation throughout the land. The 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 221 

great men of the Choctaw nation spoke despondingly to their fellows, 
and sung their death songs, but those songs were faintly heard in the 
gloom of the great night. It was a most unhappy time indeed, and 
darkness reigned for a great while. Men visited each other by torch- 
light. The grains and fruits of the land became mouldy, and the 
wild animals of the forest became tame and gathered around the watch- 
fires of the Indians, entering even into the villages. 

A louder peal of thunder than was ever before heard now echoed 
through the firmament, and a light was seen in the North. It was 
not the light of the sun, but the gleam of distant waters. They made 
a mighty roar, and, in billows like the mountains, they rolled over the 
earth. They swallowed up the entire human race in their career, and 
destroyed everything which had made the earth beautiful. Only one 
human being was saved, and that was the mysterious prophet who 
had foretold the wonderful calamity. He had built him a raft of sas- 
safras logs, and upon this did he float safely above the deep waters. 
A large black bird came and flew in circles above his head. He 
called upon it for aid, but it shrieked aloud, and flew away and re- 
turned to him no more. A smaller bird, of a bluish color, with 
scarlet eyes and beak, now came hovering over the prophet's head. 
He spoke to it, and asked if there was a spot of dry land in any part 
of the waste of waters. It fluttered its wings, uttered a sweet moan, 
and flew directly towards that part of the sky where the newly-born 
sun was just sinking in the waves. A strong wind now arose, and 
the raft of the prophet was rapidly borne in the same direction which 
the bird had pursued. The moon and stars again made their appear- 
ance, and the prophet landed upon a green island, where be encamped. 
Here he enjoyed a long and refreshing sleep, and when morning 
dawned he found that the island was covered with every variety of 
animals, excepting the great Shakanli, or mammoth, which had been 
destroyed. Birds, too, he also found here in great abundance. He 
recognized the identical black one which had abandoned him to his 
fate upon the waters, and, as it was a wicked bird and had sharp 
claws, he called it Fid luh-cMtto, or bird of the Evil One. He also 
discovered, and with great joy, the bluish bird which had caused the 
wind to blow him upon the island, and because of its kindness to him 

19* 



222 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

and its beautyj he called it PucJi clie-yon-sho-haj or the soft-voiced 
pigeon. The waters finally passed away, and in process of time that 
bird became a woman and the wife of the prophet, from whom the 
people now living upon the earth are all descended. And so endeth 
the story of The Overflowing Waters. 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 223 



THE NAMELESS CHOCTAAV. 

There once lived in the royal Indian town of E-ya-sIio (Ya-zoo) the 
only son of a war chief, who was eminently distinguished above all his 
fellows for his elegant form and noble bearing. The old men of the 
nation looked upon him with pride, and said that he was certainly born 
to occupy a high position as a warrior. He was also an eloquent orator, 
and none ever thought of doubting his courage. But, with all these 
qualities, he was not allowed a seat in the councils of his nation, be- 
cause he had not distinguished himself in war. The renown of having 
slain an enemy he could not claim, nor had he ever been fortunate 
enough to take a single prisoner. He was universally beloved, and, 
as the name of his childhood had been abandoned according to an an- 
cient custom, and he had not yet succeeded in winning a name worthy 
of his ability, he was known among his kindred as the Nameless 
Choctaw. 

In the town of E-ya-sho there also once lived the most beautiful 
maiden of her tribe. She was the daughter of a hunter, and the be- 
trothed of the Nameless Choctaw. They met often at the great dances, 
but, because she hoped to become his bride, she treated him as a stranger. 
Often, too, did they meet at the setting of the sun, but then they 
listened to the song of the whipporwill or watched the rising of the 
evening star, when each could hear the throbbing of the other's heart. 
They loved with a wild passion and were very happy. At such times 
one thought alone entered their minds to cast a shadow. It was this : 
They knew that the laws of their nation were unalterable, and that 
she could not become his bride until he had won a name. She knew 
that he could always place at the door of her lodge an abundance of 
game, and would deck her with the most beautiful of shells and wampum; 
but all this availed them nothing; that he must go upon the war-path 
was inevitable. She belonged to a proud family, and she never would 



224 KECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

consent to marry a man who had not a loud sounding name, and who 
could not sit in the councils of her people. She was willing to become 
his bride at any time, and therefore left him, by his prowess, to decide 
upon that time. 

It was now midsummer and the evening hour. The Nameless Lover 
had met his promised bride upon the summit of a small hill, covered 
with pines. From the centre of a neighboring plain arose the smoke 
of a large watch-fire, around which were dancing a party of four hundred 
warriors. They had planned an expedition against the Osages, and 
the present was the fourth and last night of the preparation ceremonies. 
Up to that evening the Nameless Choctaw had been the leader in the 
dances, and even now his absence was only temporary, for he had 
stolen away to express his parting vows to his beloved. The last em- 
brace was given, and then the maiden was alone upon the hill-top, 
looking down in sadness upon the dancing warriors, among whom she 
beheld none who commanded more attention than the being whom she 
loved. 

Morning dawned, and the Choctaw warriors were upon the war-path 
leading to the country of their enemies, far up on the headwaters of 
the Arkansas. Upon that stream they found a cave, and in that cave, 
because they were on a prairie land, they secreted themselves. Two 
men were then selected to act as spies, one of whom (the Nameless 
Choctaw) was to reconnoitre in the west and the other in the east. 
Night came, and the party in the cave were discovered by an Osage 
hunter, who had traveled thither for the purpose of sheltering himself 
until morning from the heavy dews. By the light of the stars did he 
then travel to the nearest village, and having warned his people of the 
proximity of their enemies, they hurried in a large body to the cave. 
At its mouth they built a fire, and when the sun rose into the horizon 
the entire party of Choctaws had been smothered to death by the 
cunning of their enemies. 

The Choctaw spy who had journeyed towards the east, had witnessed 
the surprise and unhappy fate of his brother warriors, and, returning 
to his own country, he called a council and revealed the sad intelligence. 
As to the fate of the Nameless Choctaw, who had journeyed to the 
westward, he knew that he too must have been overtaken and slain. 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 225 

Upon the heart of one being this last intelligence fell with a most heavy 
weight, and the promised bride of the Nameless Lover pined in melan- 
choly grief. From the night on which she was made wretched, she 
began to droop, and before the reigning moon had passed away she 
died, and was buried on the identical spot where she had parted with 
her lover. 

But what became of the Nameless Choctaw ? It was not true that he 
had been overtaken and slain. He was indeed discovered by the Osages, 
and far over the prairies and across the streams was he closely pursued. 
For many days and through the watches of many nights did the race 
continue, but the Choctaw warrior finally made his escape. His course 
had been exceedingly winding, and when he came to a pause he was 
astonished to find that the sun rose in the wrong quarter of the heavens. 
Everything appeared to him wrong and out of order, and the truth 
was he became a bewildered and forlorn man, and everywhere did he 
wander. He found himself at the foot of a mighty range of mountains, 
which were covered with grass and unlike any that he had ever before 
seen. 

It so happened, however, at the close of a certain day, that he saun- 
tered into a wooded valley, and having built him a rude bower and 
killed a rabbit, he lighted a fire, and prepared himself for one quiet 
meal and a night of repose. Morning dawned, and he was still in 
trouble. Many moons passed away and the Choctaw was still desolate 
and forlorn. It was now summer, and he called upon the Great Spirit 
to make his pathway plain ; and having hunted the forests for a spotted 
deer, and slain her, on a day when there was no wind he ofi'ered a sacri- 
fice, and that night supped upon a portion of the animal's sweet flesh. 
His fire burnt brightly, and though somewhat forlorn, he found that 
his heart was at peace. But now he hears a footstep ! A moment 
more, and a snow-white wolf of immense size is crouching at his feet, 
and licking his torn moccasins. " How came you in this strange 
country?'' inquired the "wolf; and the poor Indian related the story of 
his unsuccessful exploit and subsequent escape. The wolf took pity 
upon the Choctaw and told him that he would conduct him in safety 
to the country of his kindred; and on the following morning did they 
take their departure. Long, very long was the journey, and many 



226 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

and very wild and turbulent the streams which they had to cross. The 
wolf helped the Choctaw to kill game for their mutual sustenance, and 
by the time that the moon for weeding the corn had arrived the 
nameless Choctaw had entered his native village again. This was on 
the anniversary of the day he had parted with his betrothed, and he 
was sorely grieved to find his people mourning her untimely death. 
Time and fatigue had so changed the returned Choctaw that his rela- 
tives and friends did not recognize him, and he chose not to reveal 
himself. From many a mouth, however, did did he learn the story 
of her death, and many a wild song, to the astonishment of all his 
friends, did he sing to the memory of the departed, whom he called 
by the beautiful name of Imma, or the idol of warriors. And on a 
cloudless night did he wander to the grave of his beloved, and at a 
moment when the Great Spirit cast his shadow upon the moon (alluding 
to an eclipse) did he throw himself thereon and die. For three nights 
thereafter were the inhabitants of the Choctaw village alarmed by the 
continual howling of a wolf, and when it ceased, the pine forest, upon 
the hill where the lovers were resting in peace, took up the dismal 
howl or moan, and has continued it to the present time. 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 227 



THE SPIRIT SACRIFICE. 

It was midsummer^ and there was a terrible plague in the wilder- 
ness. Many a Chippeway village on the borders of Lake Superior had 
been depopulated. The only band of the great northern nation which 
had thus far escaped, was the one whose hunting grounds lay on the 
northern shore of the St. Mary's River. Their principal village stood 
upon a gentle promontory overlooking the Great Lake, immediately 
at the head of the Sault or Falls, and at this village the chiefs and 
warriors of the tribe were assembled in council. Incantations of every 
possible description had for many days been performed, and yet nightly 
tidings were received, showing that the fatal disease was sweeping over 
the land, like the fires of autumn over the prairies. The signs in the 
sky, as well as these tidings, convinced the poor Indians that their 
days were numbered. It was now the last night of their council, and 
they were in despair. They knew that the plague had been sent upon 
the earth by the Great Spirit, as a punishment for some crime, and 
they also knew that there was but one thing that could possibly appease 
his anger. And what was this ? The sacrifice of the m-ost beautiful 
girl of her tribe. And such was the decree, that she should enter her 
canoe, and throwing away her paddle, cast herself upon the waters, 
just above the Sault. 

Morning dawned, and loud and dismal beyond compare, was the 
wail of sorrow which broke upon the silent air. Another council was 
held, and the victim for the sacrifice was selected. She was an only 
child, and her mother was a widow, feeble and infirm. They told the 
maiden of her fate, and she uttered not a repining word. The girls 
and women of the village flocked around their long-loved companion, 
and decked her hair and her neck with all the brightest wampum, and 
the most beautiful feathers and shells that could be found in all the 
tribe. The time appointed for the sacrifice was the sunset hour ; and 



228 RECORDS or A TOURIST. 

as the day was rapidly waning, the gloom which pervaded the entire 
village gradually increased, and it even seemed as if a murmuring 
tone mingled with the roar of the mighty waterfall. The day had 
been one of uncommon splendor, and as the sun descended to the 
horizon a retinue of gorgeous clouds gathered around him, and the 
great lake, whose waters receded to the sky, was covered with a deeper 
blue than had ever before been seen. 

All things were now ready, and the Indian maiden was ready for 
the sacrifice. In silence was she conducted to her canoe, and loud 
was the wail of lamentation. It died away; and now, to the astonish- 
ment of all the people, a strange echo came from over the waters. 
What could it mean ? A breathless silence ensued, and even the old 
men listened with fear. And now a louder and a clearer continuation 
of the same echo breaks upon the air. A speck is seen upon the 
waters. The sun has disappeared, and a small canoe is seen rapidly 
approaching, as if from the very spot where the orb touched the waters. 
The song increases; and as the fairy-like canoe sweeps mysteriously over 
the watery waste, it is now seen to contain a beautiful being, resembling 
a girl, clothed in a snow-white robe. She is in a standing attitude, 
her arms are folded, and her eyes are fixed upon the heavens. Her 
soul is absorbed in a song, of which this is the burden : — 

" I come from the Spirit land, 
To appease the Great Spirit, 
To stay the plague, 
And to save the life of the beautiful Chippeway." 

Onward she came, and her pathway lay directly towards the mighty 
rapids. AVith utter astonishment did the Indians look upon this un- 
heard of spectacle, and while they looked they saw the canoe and its 
spirit voyager pass directly into the foam, where it was lost to them 
for ever. 

And so did the poor Indians escape the plague. The St. Mary is 
a beautiful river; and during the summer time its shores are always 
lined with lilies, large, and of a marvelous whiteness; and it is a 
common belief among the Chippeways, that they owe their origin to 
the mysterious spirit, from whose mutilated body they sprang. And 
so endeth the Legend of the Spirit Sacrifice. 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 229 



THE PEACE MAKER. 

The following story was obtained by the writer, directly from the lips of a 
Seneca Indian, and the hero is said to have been the grandfather of the cele- 
brated orator Red Jacket. 

There was a time wlien all the Indian tribes in the world were at 
war with the great Seneca nation^ whose hunting grounds were on the 
borders of Lake Ontario. So fearful had they become of their 
enemies, that the bravest hunters and warriors never left their wig- 
wams without bending their bows, and little children were not per- 
mitted by their mothers to gather berries or hickory nuts in the 
neighboring woods. The head chief of the nation at that time, was 
Sa-go-you-ioat-ha, or Ahcai/s Awake. He was a good man, and being 
sorely grieved at the unhappiness of his people, he conceived the idea 
of securing a permanent peace. It was true, he said, that his father 
had been a cruel and unpopular chief, but he did not think it right 
that the generation which followed his father should be made misera- 
ble for crimes never committed by them. And therefore it was that 
he prayed to the Great Ha-nee to tell him, in a dream, what he must 
do to accomplish his end. Night came, and in spite of his name, 
Always Aivake fell into a deep sleep and had a dream. 

He was told that in the direction whence came the warm winds of 
summer, and distant from his village a journey of one moon, there 
was a very large mountain. On the summit of that -mountain, as he 
was told, were living a few people from all the nations of the earth, 
excepting the Senecas. The place alluded to was called the ^fountain 
of Refuge, and it was so sacred a place, that its soil had never been 
wet with human blood, and the people who lived there, were the pecu- 
liar favorites of the Grreat Ha-nee, and were the law makers of the 
world. The dream also told the Seneca chief, that he could secure a 
permanent peace only by visiting the sacred mountain; but as the 
20 



230 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

intervening distance was so great, and his trail would be only among 
enemies, the dangers of the expedition would be very numerous. By 
traveling at night, however, and sleeping in the day time, the task 
might be accomplished, and he was at liberty to try his fortune. 

Always Aivake pondered a long time upon this strange vision, but 
finally determined to start upon the appointed expedition. Great was 
the fatigue that he endured, and oftentimes was he compelled to 
satisfy his hunger with the roots and berries of the forest. Many a 
narrow escape did he make from his enemies; but in due time he 
reached the Mountain of Refuge. He was warmly welcomed among 
the Indians of the mountain, and when he told his story and talked 
of peace, they honored him with many a loud shout of applause. A 
council was held, and a decree passed, to the effect that the important 
question at stake should be settled by another council composed of 
the head chiefs of all the Indian nations in the land. The fleetest 
runners were employed to disseminate the news, and at the appointed 
time the council of chiefs was held. They formed themselves into a 
confederacy, and with one exception, the nations of the wilderness be- 
came as one people, and so continued until the white man crossed the 
great waters and taught them the vices which have almost consumed 
them from the face of the earth. The only nation that would not 
join the confederation was the Osage nation, and because of their 
wickedness in so doing, they were cursed by the Great Ha-nee, and 
have ever since been a by -word and a reproach among their fellows. 

And when the Seneca chief returned to his own country, he was 
very happy. His trail through the forests and over the mountains 
was lined with bonfires, and in every village that he tarried, he was 
feasted with the best of game. One moon after he returned to his 
people he died and was buried on the banks of the beautiful lake 
where he lived ; and ever since that time the Great Ha-nee has per- 
mitted his people to live upon the land inherited from their fathers. 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 231 



ORIGIN OF THE DEER. 

A SHAWNEE LEGEND. 

"Wa-pit-pa-taskAj or the Yellow Sky^ was the daughter of a Shaw- 
nee or Snake hunter. His lodge was not one of the handsomest in 
the village where it stood, but the paths leading to it were more beaten 
than those leading to any other, for the daughter of the hunter was a 
great favorite among the young men of her tribe. The exploits of 
those who sought her hand had no charm for her ear, and her tastes 
were strangely different from those common among women. She 
knew that she had not many years to live upon the earth, and her 
dreams had told her she was created for an unheard-of mission. There 
was a mystery about her being, and none could comprehend the mean- 
ing of her evening songs. On one condition alone did she avow her 
willingness to become a wife, and this was, that he who became her 
husband should never, under any circumstances, mention her name. 
If he did so, a sad calamity would befall him, and he would forever 
thereafter regret his thoughtlessness. By this decree was the love of 
one of her admirers greatly enhanced, and before the summer was 
gone the twain were married and dwelt in the same lodge. 

Time flew on and the Yellow Sky sickened and died, and her last 
words were that her husband should never forget her admonition 
about breathing her name. The widower was very unhappy, and for 
five summers did he avoid his fellow men, living in solitude, and wan- 
dering through the forests alone. The voices of autumn were now 
heard in the land, and the bereaved husband had, after his many 
journeyings, returned to the grave of his wife, which he found over- 
grown with briers and coarse weeds. For many moons had he 
neglected to protect the remains of his wife, and he now tried to atone 
for his wickedness by plucking up the briers and covering the grave 
with a soft sod. In doing this he was discovered by a stranger In- 



232 KECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

dian, who asked him whose grave it was of which he was taking so 
much care ? ^^ It is the grave/' said he, " of Wa-pit-pa-taska ;" and 
hardly had the forbidden name (which he thoughtlessly uttered) 
passed from his lips, before he fell to the earth in a spasm of great 
pain. The sun was setting, and his bitter moans echoed far through 
the gloomy woods, even until the darkness settled upon the world. 

Morning came, and near the grave of the Yellow Sky a large buck 
was quietly feeding. It was the unhappy husband, whom the Great 
Spirit had thus changed. The trotting of a wolf was heard in the 
brake, and the deer pricked up his ears. One moment more, and the 
wolf started after the deer. The race was very long and painful, but 
the deer finally escaped. And thus from a man came into existence 
the beautiful deer, or tmi-rat-si; and because of the foolishness of this 
man, in not remembering his wife's words, the favorite animal of the 
Shawnee has ever been at the mercy of the wolf. 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 233 



LEGEND OF THE WHITE OWL. 

It was in the country of the Winnebagoes, or people of the turbid 
water, and there was a great scarcity of game. An Indian hunter, 
while returning from an unsuccessful expedition, at the sunset hour, 
chanced to discover in the top of a tree a large white owl. He knew 
that the flesh of this bird was not palatable to the taste, but as he 
thought of his wife and children, who had been without food for 
several days, he concluded to bend his bow and kill the bird. Hardly 
had he come to this determination, before he was astonished to hear 
the owl speaking to him in the following strain : " You are a very 
foolish hunter. You know it is against the laws of your nation to 
kill any of my tribe, and why should you do wrong because you 
happen to be a little hungry ? I know that your wife and children 
are also hungry, but that is not a good reason for depriving me of life. 
I too have a wife and several children, and their home is in the hollow 
of an old tree. When I left them a little while ago, they were quite 
as hungry as you are, and I am now trying to obtain for their enjoy- 
ment a red squirrel or a young opossum. Unlike you, I have to hunt 
for my game only at night, and if you will go away and not injure 
me, I may have it in my power to do you a kindness at some future 
time." 

The Indian hunter was convinced, and he unbent his bow. He 
returned to his wigwam, and after he had told his wife what had 
happened to him, she told him she was not sorry, for she had been 
particularly fortunate in gathering berries. And then the Indian and 
his family were contented, and game soon afterwards became abun= 
dant in the land. 

Many seasons had passed away, and the powerful nation of the Iro= 
quois were making war upon the Winnebagoes. The hunter already 
mentioned had become a successful warrior and a chief. He was a 

20* 



234 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

mark for his enemies, and the bravest among them started upon the 
war-path for the express purpose of effecting his destruction. They 
hunted him as they would the panther, but he always avoided their 
arrows. Many days of fatigue had he now endured, and, believing 
that his enemies had given up the chase, he stopped, on a certain 
evening, to rest himself and enjoy a repast of roots. After this com- 
fortless supper was ended, he wrapped himself in his skins and thought 
that he would lie down and enjoy a little sleep. He did so, and the 
only sounds which broke the stillness of the air were caused by the 
falling of the dew from the leaves, and the whistling of the whippor- 
will. It was now past midnight, and the Winnebago was yet undis- 
turbed. A whoop is heard in the forest, but so remote from his 
grassy couch as not to be heard by the unconscious sleeper. But what 
can this shouting mean? A party of the Iroquois warriors have 
fallen upon the trail of their enemy, and are in hot pursuit. But still 
the Winnebago warrior is in the midst of a pleasant dream. On come 
his enemies, and his death is inevitable. The shouting of the Iroquois 
is now distinct and clear, but in the twinkling of an eye it is swal- 
lowed up in a much louder and more dismal shriek, which startled 
the Winnebago to his feet. He is astonished, and wonders whence 
comes the noise. He looks upwards, and lo ! perched upon one of 
the branches of the tree under which he had been resting, the form of a 
large white owl. It rolls its large yellow eyes upon him, and tells him 
that an enemy is on his trail, and that he must flee for his life. And 
this is the way in which the white owl manifested its gratitude to the 
Winnebago hunter for his kindness in sparing its own life many years 
before. And since that time the owl has ever been considered a very 
good and a wise bird, and when it perches above the wigwam of the 
red man it is always safe from harm. 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 235 



DEATH OF THE GIANT CANNIBAL. 

The following story was obtained from the lips of a Chippeway warrior 
named Maw-gun-nuh, or Setting-ahead. He told it with as serious an air as if 
it had been a matter of actual and important history, and was evidently a firm 
believer in the wonders therein contained. 

An Indian village stood upon the borders of the Lake of the Woods. 
It was a summer day, and a heavy rain storm had passed over the coun- 
try, when a large Giant or Cannibal suddenly made his appearance in 
the village. He was as tall as the tallest hemlock, and carried a club in 
his hand which was longer than the longest canoe. He told the Indians 
that he had come from a far country in the North; that he was tired 
and hungry; and that all the wild rice and the game in the village 
must be immediately brought to his feet, that he might satisfy his ap- 
petite. His orders were obeyed, and when the food was brought, and 
the inhabitants of the village were collected together to see him enjoy 
his feast, the Giant told them he was not yet satisfied ; whereupon, 
with one blow of his huge club, he destroyed, with one exception, all 
the people who had treated him so kindly. The only person who 
escaped the dreadful blow was a little boy, who happened to be sick 
in one of the wigwams. 

After the Giant had committed his cruel deed, he devoured a num- 
ber of the dead bodies, and during the night disappeared without dis- 
covering the boy. In a few days the boy was well enough to move 
about, and as he went from one wigwam to another, he thought of his 
^riends who had been so suddenly killed, and was very unhappy. For 
many seasons did he live alone. While very young his food consisted 
of such birds as the partridge, but as he grew up to the estate of man- 
hood, he became a successful hunter, and often feasted upon the 
deer and the bufialo. He became a strong man, but was very lonely, 



236 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

and every time lie tliougbt of the Giant who had destroyed his rela- 
tives and friends he thirsted for revenge. 

Time passed on, and the Chippeway hunter became uneasy and dis- 
contented. He fasted for many days, and called upon the Great Spirit 
to give him power to discover and destroy the Giant who had done 
him so much harm. The Great Spirit took pity upon him, heard his 
prayer, and sent to his assistance a troop of a hundred men, from 
whose hacks grew the most beautiful of wings. They told the hunter 
that they knew all about the Giant, and would help him to take his life. 
They said that the Giant was very fond of the meat of the white bear, 
and that if the hunter would give a bear feast they were certain that 
the Giant would make his appearance and ask for a portion of the 
choice food. The time for giving the feast was appointed, and it was 
to take place in a large natural wigwam, formed by the locked branches 
of many trees ; whereupon the strange people disappeared and the 
hunter started towards the north after a bear. 

The hunter was successful ; the appointed time arrived, the feast 
was ready, and the strange people were on the ground. The dancing 
and the singing were all over, and the hot bear soup filled the wigwam 
with a pleasant odor. A heavy tramp was heard in the woods, and in 
a little time the Giant made his appearance, attracted to the place by 
the smell of the soup. Pie came rushing to the wigwam like one who 
knew not what it was to fear ; but when he saw the array of people 
with wings he became very quiet, and asked the hunter if he might 
participate in the feast. The hunter told him that he might, on con- 
dition that he would go to the mouth of a certain stream that emptied 
into the lake, and bring therefrom to the wigwam a large rock which 
he would find there. The Giant was angry at this request, but as he 
was afraid of the people with wings he dared not disobey. He did as 
he was bidden, and the thong which he used to hold the rock on his 
back cut a deep gash in his forehead. 

The hunter was not yet satisfied, and he told the Giant that before 
he could be admitted to the feast he must bring to the wigwam a gill- 
net that would reach across the widest stream. The Giant departed, 
and, having obtained a beautiful net from a mammoth spider that lived 
in a cave, he brought it to the hunter. The hunter was well pleased, 



HECOKDS OF A TOURIST. 237 

but not yet fully satisfied. One more thing did lie demand from the 
Griant before he could be admitted to the feast, which was this, that he 
must make his appearance at the feast wearing a robe made of weasel 
skins, with the teeth and claws all on. This robe was obtained, the 
Griant was admitted, and the feast proceeded. 

It lasted for several days and nights, and the hunter, the strange 
people, and the Giant danced and caroused together as if they had 
been the best of friends. The Giant was delighted with the singing 
of his entertainers, and while he praised them to the skies he did not 
know that in his bowl of soup the Chippeway hunter, who had not 
forgotten the death of his friends, had placed a bitter root, which 
would deprive him of his strength. But such was, indeed, the case. 
On the last night of the feast the Giant became very tired and stupid, 
and asked permission to enjoy some sleep. Permission was granted, 
and in the centre of the great lodge was spread for his accommodation 
his weasel-skin robe. Upon the stone which he brought from the 
river did he rest his head, and over him was spread the net he had 
obtained from the mammoth spider. He then fell into a deep sleep, 
and the men with wings and the hunter continued the revelry. Each 
man supplied himself with a war club, and they performed the dance 
of revenge. They formed a ring around the sleeping Giant, and at a 
signal made by the hunter they all gave him a severe blow, when the 
spirit-men disappeared into the air, and the weasel-skin robe suddenly 
became alive. The little animals feasted upon the Giant with evident 
satisfaction, and by morning there was nothing left of him but his 
bones. These did the hunter gather into a heap, and having burnt 
them to ashes, he threw them into the air, and immediately there came 
into existence all the beautiful birds which now fill the world. And 
in this manner was the great Giant of the Chippeways destroyed, and 
instead of his living to feast upon the flesh of man, his own body, by 
the wisdom of the Great Spirit, was turned into the birds, which are 
the animal food of man. 



238 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 



THE CHIPEWAY MAGICIAN. 

This legend^ with at least a score of variations^ was related to me 
by a Chippeway hunter named Ka-zlie-osh, or the Fleet Fhjer. It is 
excessively romantic^ but will most certainly enlist the sympathies of 
the ladies. 

Near the head of the Mississippi is Sandy Lake. In the centre of 
this lake there is an island, and on this island, in the olden times, stood 
a Chippeway village. The chief of this village had a daughter, and 
that daughter had a lover, who was the greatest warrior of his tribe, 
and a magician. He had the power of turning himself into any kind 
of animal he pleased, and for this reason he was looked upon with 
suspicion by the females of his acquaintance. He lived in a secluded 
lodge on the outskirts of the village, and none ever disturbed him in 
his seclusion without express permission ; and a greater number of 
scalps hung from the poles of his lodge than from those of any other 
in the tribe. The chief's daughter admired him for his noble bearing 
and his exploits, but she could not reconcile herself to become his wife. 
She was afraid of the strange power that he possessed, but she loved 
her father, and had promised him that she would never disobey his 
commands in regard to choosing her husband, though she trusted that 
the magician would never be mentioned in that connection. 

In view of this state of things the magician made interest with the 
entire brotherhood of warriors and hunters, and proclaimed his inten- 
tion of leading them upon the war-path to a distant country. He was 
unhappy, and hoped to find peace of mind by wandering into strange 
lands. At an appointed time the party assembled upon a neighboring 
plain, and they went through the ceremonies of the war-dance. They 
also shouted a loud war song, with the following burden : — 

" We love the whoop of our enemies; 
We are going to war, 
We are going to war, on the other side of the world." 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 239 

On witnessing these preparations, the chief of the village became 
troubled. He well knew that if the old men and the women and 
children under his charge should be abandoned by the fighting men 
and hunters of the tribe, they would be visited by much suffering, and 
he determined to avoid the calamity. But how could this be done ? 
He thought of only one method, which was to give the magician his 
daughter. He told the daughter, and she promised to obey. He 
made the proposition to the magician, and it was accepted. It was on 
certain conditions, however, and these were as follows : — 

The magician was first to capture the largest white-fish in the lake, 
then kill a white deer, and finally win a foot-race of fifteen miles 
against the swiftest runner in the tribe. All these things the magician 
promised to do, and he did them all. He turned himself into an 
otter, and by the assistance of the chief of the otters secured the 
largest fish that had ever been seen, and appearing in his own form 
again, deposited it in the lodge of the chief. He also turned himself 
into a black wolf, and having ranged the forest for a white deer he 
caught it, and again resuming his natural form carried it to the lodge 
where lived his betrothed. In running the race that had been pro- 
posed he had one hundred competitors, and at the end of the fifteen 
miles was stationed the chief's daughter, with a belt of wampum in 
her hand to crown the victor. The magician started upon the race in 
the form of a man, but before he had run a mile he turned himself 
into a hawk, and swooping to the side of the maiden, demanded that 
she should now become an inmate of his lodge. She consented, and 
the chief gave her to the magician. Before he took her away he called 
together the men of his tribe who had competed with him for the 
prize, and complimented them for their great activity in running the 
race, and condoled with them in their disappointment. He then told 
the chief that he did not thank him for what he had done, and turning 
to the daughter he said that as she had cost him so much trouble she 
must enter his camp and do all his work for him, even to the end of 
her days. And ever since that time has it been the lot of all Indian 
women to act as the servants of their husbands. 



240 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 



THE LOVER STAR. 

I obtained the following legend from the lips of an Indian trader, whom I 
met at the island of La Pointe, in Lake Superior. He said it was related to 
him by a hunter of the Chippewyan nation, and that he had heard a similar 
story among the Chippeways. 

There was once a quarrel among the stars, when one of them was 
driven away from its home in the heavens and descended to the earth. 
It wandered from one tribe of Indians to another, and had been seen 
hovering over the camp-fires of a thousand Indians, when they were 
preparing themselves to sleep. It always attracted attention and in- 
spired wonder and admiration. It often lighted upon the heads of 
little children, as if for the purpose of playing with them, but they 
were invariably frightened and drove it away by their loud crying. 
Among all the people in the world, only one could be found who was 
not afraid of this beautiful star ; and this was a little girl, the daughter 
of a Chippewyan warrior. She was not afraid of the star, but rather 
than this, she loved it with her whole heart, and was very happy in 
her love. That she was loved by the star in return there could be 
no doubt, for wherever she traveled with her father through the 
wilderness there, as the night came on did the star follow, but it was 
never seen in the day time. When the girl awoke at night, the star 
floated just above her head; and, when she was asleep, it was so con- 
stant in its watchfulness, that she never opened her eyes, even at mid- 
night, without beholding its brilliant light. People wondered at this 
strange condition of things, but how much more did they wonder, 
when they found that the father of the girl never returned from the 
hunt without an abundance of game. They therefore concluded that 
the star must be the son of the Good Spirit, and they ever after spoke 
of it with veneration. 

Time passed on, and it was midsummer. The Indian girl had gone 
into the woods for the purpose of gathering berries. Those of the 



EECORDS OF A TOURIST. 241 

wintergreen were nearly all eaten up by the pigeons and the deer^ and, 
as the cranberries were beginning to ripen, she wandered into a large 
marsh with a view of filling her willow basket with them. She did 
so, and in the tangled thickets of the swamp she lost her way. She 
became frightened and cried aloud for her father to come to her assist- 
ance. The only creatures that answered her cries were the frogs and 
the lonely bittern. The night was rapidly coming, and the farther 
she wandered the more intricate became her path. At one time she 
was compelled to wade into the water even to her knees, and then 
again would she fall into a deep hole and almost become drowned 
among the poisonous slime and weeds. Night came, and the poor girl 
looked up at the sky, hoping that she might see the star that she 
loved. A storm had arisen, and the rain fell so rapidly that a star 
could not live in it, and therefore was there none to be seen. The 
storm continued, the waters of the country rose, and in rushing into 
the deeper lakes, they destroyed the Indian girl, and washed her body 
away so that it never could be found. 

Many seasons passed away and the star continued to be seen above 
the watch-fires of the Chippewyans; but it would never remain long 
in one place, and its light appeared to have become dimmed. It ever 
seemed to be looking for something that it could not find, and people 
knew that it was unhappy on account of the untimely death of the 
girl it had loved. Additional years passed on, and with the leaves of 
autumn, it finally disappeared. A cold and long winter soon followed, 
and then the hottest summer that had ever been known. During this 
season it so happened that a hunter chanced at night to follow a bear 
into one of the largest swamps of the land, when to his astonishment 
he discovered a small light hanging over the water. It was so beauti- 
ful that he followed it for a long distance, but it led into such danger- 
ous places that he gave up the pursuit, and returned to tell his people 
what he had seen. And then it was that the oldest men of the tribe 
told him that the light he had seen was the star that had been driven 
from heaven, and that it was now wandering over the earth for the 
purpose of finding the beautiful girl it had loved. And that same star 
is still upon the earth, and is often seen by the hunters as they 
journey at night through the wilderness. 
21 



242 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 



ORIGIN OF THE P T T W A T OMIE S. 

According to the belief of the Pottowatomies, there once lived on 
the western shore of Lake Michigan two great spirits. Their names 
were Kit-che-mo-ne-to, or the Good Spirit^ and Mat-che-mo-me-to, the Evil 
Spirit. They were equally powerful, but the creation of the world 
was attributed to the former. When he had piled up the mountains, 
and filled the valleys with running streams, he proceeded to people the 
world with living creatures, and allotted to each variety its peculiar 
sphere. He then endeavored to create a being that should resemble 
himself, but in this attempt he did not succeed. The animal that he 
made looked and acted more like a wolf than any other creature. 
Disappointed at this failure the Grood Spirit became angry, and seizing 
the strange creature he had made he threw it into a great lake, and it 
was drowned. A storm arose, and the waters of the lake made a ter- 
rible noise as they beat upon its rocky shores. Among the shells and 
pebbles washed upon the sands were the bones of the strange animal 
that the Good Spirit had made, and when the storm had abated the 
bones were turned into a being who bore a strong likeness to the 
present race of Pottowatomies, and that being was the first woman. 
So well pleased with this creation was the Good Spirit that he made 
five other beings resembling her in form, but only more rugged, who 
were to help her in all her employments ; and these were the first 
men. One of them was named U-sa-me, or Smoking- Weed ; another 
}Va-pa-Jio, or Pumpkin ; another Us7i-kos-sim-m, or the ]\Ielon ; an- 
other Ko-kees, or the Bean ; and the other Mon-ta-min, or Yellow 
Maize. The business of these several beings was to protect and 
gather the various productions of the earth after which they were 
named, and in doing this they continued to be employed from the 
time that the acorn fell to the ground until it became one of the 
largest trees of the forest. 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 243 

The world had now become very beautiful, and the few men who 
had the care of it very proud. They became the friends of the Evil 
Spirit. They quarreled among themselves, and in process of time 
with the woman, whom they had for a long time obeyed. They 
looked upon her as the queen of the world, and coveted her power 
and happiness. They tried to take her life, but without success. She 
became acquainted with the wickedness of their hearts, and regretted 
that she had ever been created. So unhappy did she become that 
she prayed to the Grood Spirit to take her to the sky ; and when the 
following evening came she was transformed into a star, and ever 
since that time has been the first to take her station in the horizon 
after the sun has disappeared behind the distant hills. And it is 
thought that so long as this star remains unchanged no misfortune 
can happen to the world. 

When the five young men found themselves alone they were sorry 
for the unkind feelings they had manifested towards the woman, and 
were constantly missing the brightness of her smiles and the music of 
her voice, which they now remembered with mingled feelings of plea- 
sure and pain. They were in great tribulation, and expected to 
perish from the face of the earth for their wickedness. They called 
upon the Evil Spirit for oomfort and power, but he heard them not ; 
he had abandoned them to their fate. They then thought that they 
would implore the assistance of the Good Spirit. They did so, and 
told him that they only wanted each the companionship of a woman, 
like the one that had been taken away. Their prayer was answered, 
and thus did they become the husbands of affectionate wives, from 
whom are descended the nation of Pottowatomies, or the people lolio 
make their own fires. 



244 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 



ORIGIN OF THE CHOCTAWS. 

The sea alluded to in this legend is supposed to be the Gulf of Mexico^ and 
the mighty river the Mississippi. So said the educated Choctaw Pitcldyn, from 
whom it was obtained. The idea that the Choctaws were the original mound 
builders, will strike the reader as something new. 

According to the traditions of tlie Choctaws, the first of their race 
came from the bosom of a magnificent sea. Even when they first 
made their appearance upon the earth they were so numerous as to 
cover the sloping and sandy shore of the ocean far as the eye could 
reach, and for a long time did they follow the margin of the sea be- 
fore they could find a place suited to their wants. The name of their 
principal chief has long since been forgotten, but it is well remem- 
bered that he was a prophet of great age and wisdom. For many 
moons did they travel without fatigue, and all the time were their 
bodies strengthened by pleasant breezes, and their hearts, on the other 
hand, gladdened by the luxuriance of a perpetual summer. ' In process 
of time, however, the multitude was visited by sickness, and one after 
another were left upon the shore the dead bodies of old women and 
little children. The heart of the Prophet became troubled, and, j^lant- 
ing a long staff that he carried in his hand, and which was endowed 
with the miraculous power of an oracle, he told his people that from 
the spot designated they must turn their faces towards the unknown 
wilderness. But before entering upon this portion of their journey 
he designated a certain day for starting, and told them that they were 
at liberty, in the meantime, to enjoy themselves by feasting and 
dancing, and performing their national rites. 

It was now early morning, and the hour appointed for starting. 
Heavy clouds and flying mists rested upon the sea, but the beautiful 
waves melted upon the shore as joyfully as ever before. The staiF 
which the Prophet had planted was found leaning towards the north, 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 245 

and in that direction did the multitude take up their line of march. 
Their journey lay across streams, over hills and mountains, through 
tangled forests, and over immense prairies. They were now in an en- 
tirely strange country, and as they trusted in their magic staff they 
planted it every night with the utmost care, and arose in the morning 
with great eagerness to ascertain the direction towards which it leaned. 
And thus had they traveled for many days when they found them- 
selves upon the margin of an 0-hee-na-cliitto, or great highway of 
water. Here did they pitch their tents, and having planted the staff, 
retired to repose. When morning came the oracle told them that 
they must cross the mighty river before them. They built themselves 
a thousand rafts, and reached the opposite shore in safety. They now 
found themselves in a country of surpassing loveliness, where the 
trees were so high as almost to touch the clouds, and where game of 
every variety and the sweetest of fruits were found in the greatest 
abundance. The flowers of this land were more brilliant than any 
they had ever before seen, and so large as often to shield them from 
the sunlight of noon. With the climate of the land they were delighted, 
and the air they breathed seem to fill their bodies with a new vigor. 
So pleased were they with all that they saw that they built mounds 
in all the more beautiful valleys they passed through, so that the Mas- 
ter of Life might know that they were not an ungrateful people. In 
this new country did they conclude to remain, and here did they es- 
tablish their national government with its benign laws. 

Time passed on, and the Choctaw nation became so powerful that 
its hunting grounds extended even to the sky. Troubles now arose 
among the younger warriors and hunters of the nation, until it came to 
pass that they abandoned the cabins of their forefathers, and settled 
in distant regions of the earth. Thus from the ver}^ body of the 
Choctaw nation have sprung those other nations which are known as 
the Chickasaws, the Cherokees, the Creeks or Mukogees, the Shawnees 
and the Delawares. And in the process of time the Choctaws founded 
a great city, wherein their more aged men might spend their days in 
peace; and, because they loved those of their people who had long 
before departed into distant regions, they called this city Yazoo, the 
meaning of which is, hotn^ of the peoph wJw are gone. 



246 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 



THE DANCING GHOSTS. 

That beautiful plienomenon known to tlie white man as the Aurora 
Borealis, or Northern Lights, is called by the Chippeway Indians Je-hi- 
ne-me-id-de-wandj or the Dancing. Ghosts. The legends accounting 
for it are numerous, and the following, which was related to the 
translator by a Chippeway hunter, named Keesh- Chock, or Precipice 
Leaper, is quite as fantastic as the phenomenon itself. That it is a 
very ancient tradition is evident from the fact that the sacrifice to 
which it alludes has not been practiced by the Chippeways for at least 
a century. 

There was a time when all the inhabitants of the far North were 
afflicted by a famine. It was in the depth of winter, and the weather 
had for a long time been so eold that even the white bear was afraid 
to leave his hiding place. The prairies were so deeply covered with 
snow that the deer and the buffalo were compelled to wander to a 
warmer climate, and the lakes and rivers were so closely packed with 
ice that it was only once in a while that even a fish could be obtained. 
Such sorrow as reigned throughout the land had never before been 
known. The magicians and wise men kept themselves hidden in their 
cabins. The warriors and hunters, instead of boasting of their ex- 
ploits, crowded around their camp-fires, and in silence meditated upon 
their unhappy doom. Mothers abandoned their children to seek for 
berries in the desolate forests, and the fingers of the young women had 
become stifi" from idleness, for they had not any skins out of which to 
make the comfortable moccasin. From one end of the Chippeway 
country to the other was heard the cry of hunger and distress. That 
the Great Spirit was angry with his people was universally believed, 
but for what reason none of the magicians could tell. The chief of the 
Chippeways was the oldest man in the nation, and he was consulted 
in regard to the impending calamity. He could give no reason for 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 247 

the f^imine, but stated that lie bad been informed in a dream that the 
anger of the Grreat Spirit could be appeased by a human sacrifice. 
How this should come to pass, however^ he could not tell, and there- 
fore concluded to summon to his lodge all the medicine-mon who lived 
within a day's journey, for the purpose of consulting with them. He 
did so, and when the council was ended it was proclaimed that three 
Chippeways should be immediately bound to the stake and consumed. 
They were to be selected by lot from among the warriors of the tribe ; 
and, when this sad intelligence was promulgated, a national assembly 
was ordered to convene. 

The appointed time arrived, and, in the presence of a large multi- 
tude, the fatal lots were cast, and three of the bravest men of the tribe 
were thus appointed to the sacrifice. They submitted to their fate 
without a murmur. Whilst their friends gathered around them with 
wild lamentations, and decked them with the costliest robes and orna- 
ments to be found in all the tribe, the youthful warriors uttered not a 
word about their untimely departure, but only spoke in the most 
poetical language of the happy hunting grounds upon which they were 
about to enter. The spot selected for the sacrifice was the summit of 
a neighboring hill which was covered with woods. Upon this spot had 
three stakes been closely erected, around which there had been col- 
lected a large pile of dry branches and other combustible materials. 
To the stakes, at the hour of midnight, and by the hands of the ma- 
gicians, unattended by spectators, were the three warriors securely 
fastened. They performed their cruel duty in silence, and the only 
sounds that broke the stillness of that winter night were the songs and 
the shoutings of the multitude assembled in the neighboring village. 
The incantations of the priests being ended, they applied a torch to 
the fagots, and, returning to their village, spent the remainder of the 
night in performing a variety of strange and heart-sickening cere- 
monies. 

Morning dav^^ned, and upon the hill of sacrifice was to be seen only 
a pile of smouldering ashes. On that day the weather moderated, 
and an unusual number of hunters went forth in pursuit of game. 
They were all more successful than they had been for many seasons, 
and there was an abundance of sweet game, such as the bufialo, the 



248 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

bear, and the deer in every wigwam. A council was called, and the 
p atriarch chief proclaimed the glad tidings that the Great Spirit had 
accepted their sacrifice, and that it was now the duty of his children to 
express their gratitude by a feast — the feast of hitter 7'oots. 

The appointed night arrived, and the bitterest roots which could be 
found in the lodges of the magicians were collected together and made 
into a soup. The company assembled to partake of this feast, was the 
largest that had ever been known, and, as they were to conclude their 
ceremony of thankfulness by dancing, they had cleared the snow from 
the centre of their village, and on this spot were they duly congre- 
gated. It was a cold and remarkably clear night, and their watch- 
fires burnt with uncommon brilliancy. It was now the hour of mid- 
night, and the bitter soup was all gone. The flutes and the drums 
had just been brought out, and the dancers, decked in their most 
uncouth dresses, were about to enter the charmed ring, when a series 
of loud shoutings were heard, and the eyes of the entire multitude 
were intently fixed upon the northern sky, which was illuminated by 
a most brilliant and unearthly light. It was a light of many colors, 
and as changeable as the reflections upon a summer sea at the sunset 
hour. Across this light were constantly dancing tliree huge figures of 
a crimson hue, and these did the magicians proclaim to be the ghosts 
of the three warriors who had given up their bodies for the benefit of 
their people, and who had thus become great chiefs in the spirit-land. 
The fire by which their bodies had been consumed had also consumed 
every feeling of revenge ; and ever since that remote period it has 
been their greatest pleasure to illume by their appearance on winter 
nights the pathway of the hunters over the snowy plains of the north. 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 249 



THE STRANGE WOMAN. 

It was in olden times, and two Choctaw hunters were spending 
the night by their watch-jSre in a bend of the river Alabama. The 
game and the fish of their country were with every new moon becoming 
less abundant, and all that they had to satisfy their hunger on the 
night in question, was the tough flesh of a black hawk. They were 
very tired, and as they mused upon their unfortunate condition, and 
thought of their hungry children, they were very unhappy, and talked 
despondingly. But they roasted the bird before the fire, and pro- 
ceeded to enjoy as comfortable a meal as they could. Hardly had 
they commenced eating, however, before they were startled by a sin- 
gular noise, resembling the cooing of a dove. They jumped up and 
looked around them to ascertain the cause. In one direction they 
saw nothing but the moon just rising above the forest trees on the 
opposite side of the river. They looked up and down the river, but 
could see nothing but the sandy shores and the dark waters. They 
listened, and nothing could they hear but the murmur of the flowing 
stream. They turned their eyes in that direction opposite the moon, 
and to their astonishment, they discovered standing upon the summit 
of a grassy mound, the form of a beautiful woman. They hastened to 
her side, when she told them she was very hungry, whereupon they 
ran after their roasted hawk, and gave it all into the hands of the 
strange woman. She barely tasted of the profibred food, but told the 
hunters that their kindness had preserved her from death, and that 
she would not forget them, when she returned to the happy grounds 
of her father, who was the Ilosh-tah-h', or Great Spirit of the Choc- 
taws. She had one request to make, and this was, that when the 
next moon of midsummer should arrive, they should visit the spot 
where she then stood. A pleasant breeze swept among the forest 
leaves, and the strange woman suddenly disappeared. 



250 EECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

The hunters were astonished, but they returned to their families, 
and kept all that they had seen and heard, hidden in their hearts. Sum- 
mer came, and they once more visited the mound on the banks of the 
Alabama. They found it covered with a new plant, whose leaves 
were like the knives of the white man. It yielded a delicious food, 
which has since been known among the Choctaws as the sweet toncha 
or Indian maize. 



KECORDS OF A TOURIST. 251 



THE VAGABOND BACHELOR. 

In the great wilderness of the north^ midway between Hudson's 
Bay and Lake Ontario, lies a beautiful sheet of water called Stone 
Lake. It is surrounded with hills, which are covered with a dense 
forest, and the length thereof is about twelve miles. On the shore of 
this lake there stood, in the olden time, an Ottawa village, and the 
most notorious vagabond in said village was an old bachelor. He was 
a kind-hearted rogue, and though he pretended to have a cabin of his 
own, he spent the most of his time lounging about the wigwams of 
his friends, where he was treated with the attention usually bestowed 
upon the oldest dog of an Indian village. The low cunning for which 
he was distinguished made him the laughing-stock of all who knew 
him, and his proverbial cowardice had won for him the contempt of 
all the hunters and warriors. Whenever a war party was convened 
for the purpose of pursuing an enemy, Wis-ka-go-twa, or the White 
Liver, always happened to be in the woods ; but when they returned, 
singing their songs of victory, the vagabond bachelor generally min- 
gled conspicuously with the victors. 

But, in process of time, Wis-ka-go-twa took it into his head to get 
married, and from that moment began the troubles of his life. As 
soon as his resolution had become known among the young women of 
the village, they came together in secret council, and unanimously 
agreed that not one of them would ever listen to the expected propo- 
sals of the bachelor, for they thought him too great a coward to enjoy 
the pleasures of matrimony. Years elapsed, and the vagabond was 
still in the enjoyment of his bachelorhood. 

In the meanwhile a beautiful maiden, named Muck-o-wiss, or the 
Whipporwill, had budded into the full maturity of life. She was 
the chief attraction of the village, and the heart of many a brave warrior 
and expert hunter had been humbled beneath her influence. Among 



252 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

those who had entered her lodge in the quiet nighty and whispered 
the story of his love^ was Wis-ka-go-twa. She deigned not to reply to 
his avowals, and he became unhappy. He asked the consent of her 
father to their union, and he said that he had no objections provided 
the daughter was willing. It so happened, however, that the maiden 
was not willing, for she was a member of that female confederacy 
which had doomed the vagabond lover to the miseries of single life. 
Time passed on, and he was the victim of a settled melancholy. 

The sunny days of autumn were nearly numbered, and an occa- 
sional blast from the far north had brought a shudder to the breast of 
Wis-ka-go-twa, for they reminded him of the long winter which he 
was likely to spend in his wigwam alone. He pondered upon the 
gloomy prospect before him, and in his frenzy made the desperate 
resolution that he would, by any means in his power, obtain the love 
of his soft-eyed charmer. He consequently began to exert himself in 
his daily hunts, and whenever he obtained an uncommonly fat beaver, 
or large bear, he carefully deposited it before the lodge of Muck-o- 
wiss, and he now mingled, more frequently than ever before, in the 
various games of the village, and was not behind his more youthful 
rivals in jumping and playing ball. In a variety of ways did he 
obtain renown, but it was at the expense of efforts which nearly de- 
prived him of life. Again did he sue for the smiles of Muck-o-wiss, 
but she told him he was an old man, and that he did not wear in his 
hair a single plume of the eagle, to show that he had ever taken a 
scalp. 

The disappointed vagabond now turned his attention to war. It so 
happened, however, that a permanent peace had been established be- 
tween the Ottawas and the neighboring tribes, so that our hero was 
baffled on this score also. But he had heard it reported in the village 
that a party of Iroquois warriors had been seen on that side of the 
Great Lake, and as they were heartily hated by his own tribe, he 
conceived the idea of absenting himself for a few days, for the pur- 
pose of playing a deceptive game upon the maiden of his love and the 
entire population of the village where he lived. Having formed his 
determination, he kept it entirely to himself, and on a certain morn- 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 253 

ing lie launclied his canoe upon the lake and disappeared, as if going 
upon a hunting expedition. 

Four or five days had elapsed, and the vagabond bachelor was not 
yet returned. On the afternoon of the sixth day, a couple of Indian 
boys, who had been frolicking away the morning in the woods, returned 
to the village in an uncommonly excited mood. They visited almost 
every wigwam, and related a grand discovery which they had made. 
While chasing a deer into a secluded bay, about ten miles down the 
lake, they announced that they had seen Wis-ka-go-twa engaged in a 
most singular employment. They were aware of his peculiar reputa- 
tion, and when they saw him in this out-of-the-way place, they watched 
him in silence from behind a fallen tree. The first act which they 
saw him perform was, to shoot into the side of his little canoe some 
twenty of his flint-headed arrows, which mutilated the canoe in a most 
disgraceful manner. He next took some unknown instrument, and 
inflicted a number of severe wounds upon his arms and legs. But the 
deepest incision which he made was on his leg, just above the knee, 
into which they were astonished to see him place, with a small stick, a 
kind of white material, which resembled the dry shell of a turtle. All 
this being accomplished, they saw the vagabond embark in his leaky 
canoe, as if about to return to the village. They suspected the game 
that was being played, so they made the shortest cut home and related 
the foregoing particulars. 

An hour or two passed on, and, as the sun was setting, the villagers 
were attracted by a canoe upon the lake. They watched it with pecu- 
liar interest, and found that it was steadily approaching. Presently 
it made its appearance within hailing distance, when it was discovered 
to be occupied by the vagabond bachelor. Every man, woman, and 
child immediately made their appearance on the shore, apparently for 
the purpose of welcoming the returning hunter, but in reality with a 
view of enjoying what they supposed would turn out a good joke. The 
hunter looked upon the crowd with evident satisfaction, but he mani- 
fested his feelings in a very novel manner, for he was momentarily ut- 
tering a long-drawn groan, as if sufiering from a severe wound. As 
the canoe touched the sand it was found to be half full of bloody 
water, and one of the sides had evidently been fired into by the arrows 
99 



254 llECORDS OF A TOUKIST, 

of an enemy. A murmur ran through the croAYd that Wis-ka-go-twa 
must have had a dreadful time^ and he was called upon to give the 
particulars, when he did so in a few words. He had been overtaken, 
he said, by a party of Iroquois, consisting of some twenty men, who 
attacked him while he was pursuing a bear, and though he succeeded 
in killing four of his rascally pursuers, his canoe had been sadly muti- 
lated, and he had received a wound which he feared would be the cause 
of his death. In due time the wound was revealed to the public eye, and 
the young v/omen turned away with a shudder ; and then the vagabond 
bachelor was conveyed to his lodge, and the medicine-man sent for to 
administer relief. 

A day or two elapsed, and the poor hunter was evidently in a bad 
way. They asked him what individual in the village he would have 
to attend him. He expressed a preference for the father of Muck-o- 
wiss, who came and faithfully attended to his duties as a nurse; but 
the sick was not yet satisfied. '^ Whom will you have now ?^^ asked 
the old man, and the name of Muck-o-wiss trembled on the lips of 
the sick lover. His chief desire was granted, and for three days did 
the maiden attend to the little wants of her unfortunate lover. Another 
day, and he was rapidly mending. He was now so nearly restored 
that the maiden began to talk of returning to her mother's wigwam. 
This intelligence roused the hunter from his bed of furs, and he once 
more avowed his undying attachment to the charming maiden. She 
repulsed him with a frown, and retired from the lodge ; so the hunter 
was again sadly disappointed. The maiden hastened to tell the news 
to all the women of the village, and after they had enjoyed themselves 
for upwards of an hour, ]Muck-o-wiss returned to the wigwam of her 
lover, and told him that she would become his wife on one condition, 
which was, that on the day he should succeed in killing five bears, on 
that day would she enter his lodge and make it her permanent home. 
For an Indian to kill five bears on one day was considered a remark- 
able feat, and the roguish Muck-o-wiss thought herself secure. 

Days passed on, and the vagabond bachelor was again restored to 
sound health and devoting himself to the chase. It was just the sea- 
son when the black bear takes up its annual journey for the south, 
and the hunter had discovered a narrow place in the lake, where the 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 



9nr. 



animals were in the habit of coming. It was the hast day of autumn, 
and early in the morning he had stationed himself in a good ambush. 
By the time the sun cast a short shadow, he had killed three fine spe- 
cimens, and placed them before the lodge of his intended wife. The 
middle of the afternoon arrived, and he had deposited the fourth ani- 
mal at the same place. The sunset hour was nigh at hand, and the 
hunter had killed and placed in his canoe the fifth and largest bear 
that he had ever seen. The happiest hour of the poor man^s life was 
now surely nigh at hand. Impatiently did he paddle his way home. 
The villagers saw that the vagabond bachelor had been successful, and 
Muck-o-wiss and all her female companions were filled with consterna- 
tion. But the truly heroic warriors, who had striven in vain to win 
the love of the village beauty, were not only astonished, but indignant, 
for they could not bear the idea of losing, in such a manner, the prize 
which had urged them on in the more noble deeds of war. But now 
has the canoe once more reached the shore. Upon his back has the 
hunter lifted his prize, and up the bank is he toiling and staggering 
along with the immense load, and now has he fixed his eyes upon the 
lodge where he is hoping to receive his promised bride. His heart 
flutters with tumultuous joy — his knees tremble from fatigue — a strange 
faintness passes over his brain — he reels from his upright position— 
the bear falls to the ground—and the vagabond bachelor is — dead. 



256 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 



ORIGIN OF THE WATER LILY. 

Many, many moons ago, an old and very celebrated hunter of the 
Pottowattomie nation was at the point of death, in a remote forest. 
He was alone on his bed of leaves, for he had been stricken by the 
hand of disease while returning from a hunting expedition. Among 
the treasures that he was to leave behind him was a beautiful hickory 
arrow, with which he had killed a great number of animals. The 
head thereof was made of a pure white flint, and the feathers which 
adorned it had been plucked from the wings of the scarlet birds. It 
had been the means of saving his life on many occasions, and its 
virtues were so peculiar, that it could pass entire through a buffalo 
without being tinged with the life-blood of the animal. 

The greatest weight which rested upon the mind of the dying Indian, 
arose from the idea that he could not bequeath his arrow to his oldest 
son. He was alone in the wilderness, and it made him very unhappy 
to think that the treasure of his family might yet become the property 
of an enemy, who would be likely to cross his trail after the ravens 
or wolves had eaten his flesh. But this was a thought that he could 
not possibly endure, and as the pall of night settled upon the world, 
he fixed his eyes upon the northern star, which had guided him through 
many dangers, and prayed to the Master of Life that he would take 
his arrow and carry it safely to the smiling planet. A moment more 
and the unknown hunter buried his head among the dry leaves, and— - 
died. 

On the following night, a terrible gale of wind swept over the land, 
which took the arrow from the ground and hurled it into the upper 
air. A strange silence immediately followed, when the northern star 
was seen to tremble in the sky : another brief period elapsed, and 
there was a deafening noise heard in the firmament, when the evening 
star left its own quiet home, and fell upon the northern star for the 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 257 

purpose of winning, by single combat, tlie arrow of the great hunter. 
The conflict was a desperate one, and as the two stars fought for the 
earthly prize, sparks of white light shot from their sides, and in un- 
numbered particles fell upon the country now known as Michigan. 
A long rain storm soon followed, by which the particles of light were 
taken to the river, and by a decree of the l^Iaster of Life, were changed 
into the beautiful white lilies which adorn the numerous streams of 
the western country. 



22* 



258 EECOUDS or a tourist. 



THE FAITHFUL COUSINS. 

I NOW speak of two Chippeway hunters, wlio lived among the 
Porcupine mountains, near Lake Superior. They were the oklest sons 
of two brothers, and noted in their village for the warm friendship 
existing between them, and for their powers in hunting. They were 
very famous throughout the land, and into whatever village they hap- 
pened to enter, the old men asked them to remain and marry their 
handsome women, but the hunters laughed at all such proposals, for 
they had pledged their words to each other that they would ever 
remain single and free. 

It was when the leaves were fading, that the young cousins heard 
of a great hunt which was to take place in a distant village. It was 
got up by an old warrior, who was the father of a beautiful daughter, 
and he had determined that the most successful hunter should become 
his son-in-law. This intelligence had been conveyed to the cousins 
in a secret manner, and on departing from their own village, they spoke 
not a word of their determination. In due time the hunt took place, 
and an immense quantity of game was taken. Some of the hunters 
brought homo two bears, some three and four deer, but the two cou- 
sins captured each five bears. As no one man had eclipsed his fel- 
lows, it was resolved by the old warrior that the man who should 
bring to his lodge the scalps of ten bears, should be the successful 
candidate for the hand of his daughter. Another hunt took place, 
and each of the cousins brought in, not only the scalps of ten full 
grown bears, but also a large quantity of choice meats, which they 
deposited at the tent door of the chief. The difficulty of making a 
selection was now even greater than before, but the truth was, the 
young friends had no desire to marry the beautiful girl, but were only 
anxious to manifest their bravery, or rather wonderful expertness in 



RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 259 

killing wild animals. Their singular conduct astonished everybody, 
but mostly the venerable warrior and his favorite daughter. 

The important question must be decided, however, and the old man 
resorted to a number of expedients to decide upon a future son-in-law. 
The first was that the two cousins should enter upon a wrestling 
match — they did so, and the twain fell to the ground at the same 
moment. The next was that they should try their agility in leaping 
over a suspended stick, but in this trial they also came out exactly 
even. The third was, that they shoot their arrows at a pair of hum- 
ming birds, and the maker of the best shot to be the lady's husband ; 
the arrows were thrown, and the right wing of each bird was broken. 
The fourth expedient was that they should go upon a squirrel hunt — 
they did so, and each one returned with just exactly one hundred of 
those sprightly creatures. It now came to pass, and was whispered 
about the village, that one of the cousins had really become interested 
in the girl who was the innocent cause of so much contention, and 
when her father found this out, he resolved to make one more experi- 
ment. He therefore commanded the young men to kill each a speci- 
men of the 7t'e necoh or war-eagle, and the one who should present her 
with the greatest number of perfectly formed feathers, would be wel- 
comed as a relative. The trial was made and the whole number of 
feathers obtained was twenty-one, the odd feather having been gained 
by the enamored cousin. The girl was of course awarded to him in 
due time, but what was the surprise of all the villagers, when it was 
proclaimed that he would not receive the prize unless the young men 
of the tribe should first build him a handsome lodge and furnish it 
with the choicest of meats and skins. At this suggestion the young 
men were greatly enraged, but they concluded, in consideration of 
their admiration for the Indian girl, to change their minds, and forth- 
with proceeded to erect the new lodge. 

In the meanwhile, it was ascertained that the unlucky cousin had 
become somewhat ofi"ended at his companion, whereupon the accepted 
lover joined the other in a bear hunt for the purpose of effecting a 
reconciliation. It so happened, however, that the existing coldness 
between them could not be removed, and while the twain were toiling 
up a remote hill with the view of encamping for the night, the disap- 



260 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

pointed cousin was suddenly transformed into a large fire-fly, and 
having ascended into the air, immediately experienced another change, 
and became what is now known as the Northern Star, The remaining 
cousin felt himself severely punished by this abandonment for having 
broken his vow, and therefore became an exile from his native land 
and led a comfortless and solitary life ; while the maiden whom he 
was to wed, it is said, is still waiting patiently, but in vain, for the 
return of her long lost lover. 



BECORDS OF A TOURIST. 261 



THE OSAGE DAMSEL. 

There once lived in the Osage country an Indian whose name 
was Koo-zhe-ge-ne-cahj or The Distant Man. He had been a famous 
warrior and hunter^ but time had weakened his arm and lifted a mist 
before his eye. His wives were all dead^ and the only one of his 
kindred left upon earth to minister to his wants was a little damsel, 
his grandchild^ and the joy of his old age. The twain were much be- 
loved by all their tribe, and when journeying across the broad prairies 
they were always supplied with the gentlest of horses, and they never 
had to ask the second time for their favorite food. Whenever the 
tribe came to a halt on the bank of a river, in a country abounding in 
game, the first tent-poles planted in the ground were those belonging 
to the Distant Man and his child, and their tent always stood next to 
that of the chief. 

It was midsummer, and the entire Osage nation was encamped upon 
a plain at the foot of a mountain, covered to the very summit with 
rich grass and brilliant flowers. The last hunts had been successful, 
and in every lodge was to be found an abundance of buffalo and deer 
meat. Feasting and merrymaking, dancing and playing ball, were 
the chief emj^loyments of the hour throughout the entire village, 
while in every direction upon the prairies the horses, with their feet 
hobbled, were cropping their sweet food. The children and the dogs 
sported upon the green together, and many a laugh resounded long and 
loud. The sun was near his setting, when suddenly an unusual still- 
ness pervaded the air. The people gathered together in haste and 
wondered what it could all mean. The strange silence caused them 
to listen with increased attention, when a distant whoop came stealing 
along the air. It seemed to come from the neighboring mountain, 
and as the multitude cast their eyes in that direction, they saw a sin- 
gle horseman coming towards their encampment with the speed of the 



262 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

wiud. They waited in breathless expectation, and were astonished at 
the boldness of the stranger in riding with such fury directly into 
their midst. 

He was mounted upon a black horse of gigantic size, with splendid- 
ly flowing mane and tail, and an eye of intense brilliancy, and was 
caparisoned in a most gorgeous manner. The stranger was clad from 
head to foot with a dress of many colors, and from his hair hung a 
great variety of the most curious plumes. He carried a lance, and to 
his side were fastened a bow and a quiver of arrows. He was in the 
prime of life, and his bearing was that of a warrior chief. He avowed 
himself the son of the Master of Life, and his home to be in the Spirit 
Land. He said that there was a woman in that land who had told 
him that the most beautiful maiden in the Osage nation was her 
daughter. From other lips also had he heard that she was good as 
well as beautiful, and that her only protector and friend was an old 
man named Koo-ze-glie-ne-cah. He had asked for a dream that he 
might see this being of the earth. Having seen her, and being in want 
of a wife, he was now come to demand her of her venerable parent, and 
forthwith rode to the door of his tent to make a bargain. The stran- 
ger dismounted not from his horse, but talked with the old man lean- 
ing upon the neck of his noble animal, the maiden meanwhile sitting 
in pensive quietness within her tent door, working a pair of moccasins. 
The old man doubted the stranger's words, and desired him to prove 
that he was the son of the Master of Life. '' What sign of my nature 
and power would you witness V^ inquired the stranger. " That you 
would cover the heavens with thick darkness, picture it with lightning, 
and fill the air with loud thunder," replied the old man. '^ Do this, 
and my daughter shall be your bride." Suddenly a storm arose, and 
the sign was fulfilled to the utmost extent, so that the entire nation 
were stricken with fear. Night came on, the sky was without a cloud, 
but spangled with stars, and the air was perfectly serene, and when 
the stranger and his steed were sought for, it was found that they had 
disappeared. Peace rested upon the Osage village, and the oldest men 
of that tribe never enjoyed a more refreshing sleep than on that me- 
morable night. 

On the following day everything about the Osage encampment 



EECORDS OF A TOURIST. 263 

-wore its ordinary aspect, and the events of the previous day were 
talked over as people talk of tlieir dreams. The old man and the 
maiden made an offering to the Master of Life, and while the former, 
before the assembled nation, promised to give up his child, she, in her 
turn, expressed her entire willingness to become the bride of the 
stranger, should he ever return. Not only was she prompted to do 
this by the honor conferred upon her, and also by the nobleness of the 
stranger, but she thought it would make her so happy to rejoin her 
long departed mother in the spirit land. She was only troubled about 
the feeble old man, whom she dearly loved ; but when the whole na- 
tion promised, as with one voice, to make him the object of their pe- 
culiar care, she was satisfied. 

Again was the sun in the western horizon. Again did the stranger 
appear mounted as before. But as he entered the village, there trot- 
ted by his side a white horse of exceeding beauty, decked from fore- 
lock to tail with the richest and rarest of ornaments. He had come for 
his bride, and was impatient to be gone. He led the white horse to 
the tent of the girl he loved, and throwing at her feet a dress of scar- 
let feathers, he motioned her to prepare for a long journey. When 
she was ready, he motioned to the white horse to fall upon his knees, 
and the maiden leaped upon his back. The twain then walked their 
horses to the outskirts of the village, and as they passed along the 
stranger took from his quiver and tossed into the hands of the Osage 
chief and each of his warriors and hunters, a charmed arrow, which, 
he said, would enable them not only to subdue their enemies, but also 
supply them with an abundance of game, as long as they roamed the 
prairies. . The stranger now gave a whoop and the horses started upon 
the run. Their path lay over the mountain, where the stranger had 
been fii'st seen. They flew more swiftly than the evening breeze, and 
just as the sun disappeared, they reached the summit of the mountain 
and also disappeared, as if received into the bosom of a golden cloud. 



264 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 



THE SPECTRE AND HUNTER. 

The following legend was originally translated into English by an educated 
Choctaw, named /. L. McDonald, nnd subsequently embodied in a private letter 
to another Choctaw, named Peter P. Pitchlyn. The former of these very worthy 
Indian gentlemen has long been dead, and it is therefore with very great plea- 
sure that I avail myself of the opportunity, kindly afforded me by the latter 
gentleman, of associating the legendary relic with my own. I have ventured, 
by the permission and advice of Mr. Pitchlyn, to alter an occasional expression 
in the text, but have not trespassed upon the spirit of the story. 

Ko-WAY-HOOM-MAH^ or tlie Red Pantlier, once started out on a hunt- 
ing expedition. He had an excellent bow^ and carried with him some 
jerked venison. His only comjoanion was a large white dog, which 
attended him in all his rambles. This dog was a cherished favorite, 
and shared in all his master's privations and successes. He was the 
social companion of the hunter by day, and his watchful guardian by 
night. 

The hunter had traveled far, and as the evening approached, he 
encamped upon a spot that bore every indication of an excellent hunt- 
ing-ground. Deer-tracks were seen in abundance, and turkeys were 
heard clucking in various directions, as they retired to their roosting 
places. Ko-way-hoom-mah kindled a fire, and having shared a portion 
of his provision with his dog, he spread his deer-skin and his blanket 
by the crackling fire, and mused on the adventures of the day already 
passed, and on the probable success of the ensuing one. It was a bright 
starlight night ; the air was calm, and a slight frost which was fall- 
ing, rendered the fire comfortable and cheering. His dog lay crouched 
and slumbering at his feet, and from his stifled cries, seemed dreaming 
of the chase. Everything tended to soothe the feelings of our hunter, 
and to prolong that pleasant train of associations, which the beauty of 
the night and the anticipations of the morrow were calculated to 



RECORDS OP A TOURIST. 265 

inspire. At length, when his musings were assuming that indefinite and 
dreamy state which precedes a sound slumber, he was startled by a 
distant cry, which thrilled on his ear, and roused him into instant 
watchfulness. He listened with breathless attention, and in a few 
minutes again heard the cry, keen, long, and piercing. The dog gave 
a plaintive and ominous howl. Ko-way-hoom-mah felt uneasy. Can 
it be a lost hunter ? was the inquiry which suggested itself. Surely 
not, for a true hunter feels lost nowhere. What then can it be? 
With these reflections our hunter stepped forth, gathered more fuel, 
and again replenished his fire. Again came a cry, keen, long, and 
painfully thrilling, as before. The voice was evidently approaching, 
and again the dog raised a low and mournful howl. Ko-way-hoom- 
mah then felt the blood curdling to his heart, and folding his blanket 
around him, he seated himself by the fire and fixed his eyes intently 
in the direction from which he expected the approach of his startling 
visitor. In a few moments he heard the approach of his footsteps. 
In another minute, a ghastly shape made its appearance, and advanced 
towards the fire. It seemed to be the figure of a hunter, like himself. 
Its form was tall and gaunt, its features livid and unearthly. A tattered 
robe was girded round his waist, and covered his shoulders, and he 
bore an unstrung bow and a few broken arrows. 

The spectre advanced to the fire, and seemed to shiver with cold. 
He stretched forth one hand, then the other to the fire, and as he did 
so, he fixed his hollow and ghastly eye on Ko-way-hoom-mah, and a 
slight smile lighted up his livid countenance, but not a word did he 
utter. Ko-way-hoom-mah felt his flesh and hair creep, and the blood 
freezing in his veins, yet with instinctive Indian courtesy he presented 
bis deer-skin as a seat for his grim visitor. The spectre waved his hand, 
and shook his head in refusal. He stepped aside, plucked up a parcel 
of briers from an adjacent thicket, spread them by the fire, and on his 
thorny couch he stretched himself and seemed to court repose. 

Our hunter was petrified with mingled fear and astonishment. His 
eyes continued long riveted on the strange and ghastly being stretched 
before him, and he was only awakened from his trance of horror by 
the voice of his faithful dog. ^^ Arise," said the dog, suddenly and 
supernaturally gifted with speech, " Arise, and flee for your life I The 
23 



266 RECORDS OF A TOURIST. 

spectre now slumbers : should you also slumber, you are lost. Arise 
and flee, while I stay and watch I" Ko-way-hoom-mah arose, and stole 
softly from the fire. Having advanced a few hundred paces, he stopped 
to listen ; all was silent, and with a beating heart he continued his 
stealthy and rapid flight. Again he listened, and again, with renewed 
confidence, he pursued his rapid course, until he had gained several 
miles on his route homeward. Feeling at length a sense of safety, he 
paused to recover breath, on the brow of a lofty hill. The night was 
calm and serene, the stars shone with steady lustre, and as Ko-way- 
hoom-mah gazed upwards, he breathed freely and felt every appre- 
hension vanish. Alas ! on the instant, the distant baying of his dog 
struck on his ear; with a thrill of renewed apprehension, he bent his 
ear to listen, and the appalling cry of his dog, now more distinctly 
audible, convinced him that the spectre was in full pursuit. Again 
he fled with accelerated speed, over hill, over plain, through swamps 
and thickets, till once more he paused by the side of a deep and 
rapid river. The heavy baying of his dog told him too truly, that his 
fearful pursuer was close at hand. One minute he stood for breath, 
and he then plunged into the stream. But scarcely had he gained the 
centre, when the spectre appeared on the bank, and plunged in after 
him, closely followed by the panting dog. Ko-way-hoom-mah' s appre- 
hensions now amounted to agony. He fancied he saw the hollow and 
glassy eyeballs of his pursuer glaring above the water, and that his 
skeleton hand was already outstretched to grapple with him. With a 
cry of horror he was about to give up the struggle for life and sink 
beneath the waves, when his faithful dog, with a fierce yell, seized upon 
his master's enemy. After a short but severe struggle they both sunk ; 
the waters settled over them forever. He became an altered man. 
He shunned the dance and the ball play, and his "former hilarity gave 
place to a settled melancholy. In about a year after this strange 
adventure he joined a war party against a distant enemy and never 
returned. 



THE END. 



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